Unbreakable
by Sandra S
Summary: Some things are unbreakable. If only by choice. Severus Snape. Major spoiler for HBP; mostly AU after DH.
1. Ashes and Fire

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: I'm a bit surprised to find myself writing a Harry Potter fic but ... I couldn't resist experimenting a bit. If this goes as planned it will be a series of loosely connected one-shots going chronologically _BACK_ in time, starting out near the end of HBP. We'll see.

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**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Snape's office **

_You take too much for granted! What if I don't want to do it any more?_

_You already agreed to do it. And now I do not wish to hear another word. _

Unnerved Severus Snape threw down his quill on top of the pile of Defence Against the Dark Arts third-year homework he was trying to correct and mark. Scowling he sat back in his chair.

He didn't know why he felt so restless tonight. Why he couldn't get that darn, embarrassing argument out of his mind he had had with Dumbledore some time ago at the border of the Forbidden Forest. His scowl deepened. Stupid Filch and his caretaker problems. Stupid Squib. Stupid boggart. Darn old man.

Snatching up his quill again his lips became a thin line. Of course he shouldn't have allowed himself to be that rattled by the encounter in the first place. He should never have allowed himself to - to lose his self-control that much. Darn it, he had sounded almost hysterical!

_You take too much for granted! What if I don't want to do it any more?_

_You already agreed to do it. And now I do not wish to hear another word. _

_But I- _

_Do I really have to remind you, Severus? So, well, now, about that investigation of yours in your house... _

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously and seething fury welled up again at the memory. The nerve of the old man! The unbelievable nerve! Talk to him that way as if he was still one of his students he could give detention! Dress him down like that! Of course he needn't remind him. As if he could ever forget. Oh, how he was tempted to disobey him just for the sake of it and... Snape's head jerked upwards.

Alarmed by the sudden tremble in the wards around his office even before he got aware of the shouting, the running footsteps thundering down the corridor outside. The next second the door had burst open and Flitwick hurtled into the room, white as a sheet and barely able to talk between ragged gasps for breath.

"Severus! Death Eaters - in Hogwarts!"

"What?" He was on his feet without knowing it, his wand in his hand, the quill fluttering to the floor. A chill in his bones. Draco. So the stupid boy had finally succeeded. "Where?"

"Astronomy - Tower! They've got - the Malfoy-boy! Severus, you must come we-"

STUPEFY!

The word was in his head not on his lips but Flitwick collapsed nevertheless in a crumpled heap on the floor. He was already around his desk, at the door, flinging it once more wide open, nearly colliding with two shadows outside in the corridor. Barely recognized bushy brown hair, protuberant eyes just in time to hold back his hex. Two shocked faces stared at him as he towered over them although not as much as he used to. Somehow he held back the crazy reflex to take fifty points from each house for being out that late at night.

"Professor Flitwick has collapsed. See to him Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood. I'll go upstairs."

And he was off down the corridor before any of them had even made a step towards his office. Running with all his might. Around corners and through hidden short cuts, astonished portraits jerking awake and turning their heads as he swept by, up the staircases taking three, four, five steps at a time. His dark robes billowing behind him. Up and up, around a corner and another, into the darkness of confusion spells and screams, through flying jinxes and over a shadowy form, lifeless on the ground. Past others ducking behind feeble cover; firing useless hexes bouncing off the cursed barrier across the stairs leading further up.

"Severus!"

He didn't listen, didn't spare a look. Ran straight for the cursed barrier and through, felt his Dark Mark burning, deflected a jinx a massive figure fired at him before the man realized who he was and jumped aside. He ignored the cry of pain as one of the defenders of the castle tried to follow him and was thrown back by the barrier.

Up and up again he ran, his steps shorter now, more laboured but just as fast, round in the spiral staircase. Bursting through the door at the end of it into the sick light of a green skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth - the Dark Mark hanging over the school.

The cold, fresh night air a slap in his face just as much as the scene that was waiting for him.

His own voice was suddenly screaming in his head.

_You take too much for granted! What if I don't want to do it any more?_

Dumbledore, wandless and sagged against the wall, looking almost worse than he had after the dark curse had destroyed most of his right hand.

Death Eaters, four of them, including Fenrir Greyback - _Fenrir Greyback?_ - pointing their wands, triumph and malice in their eyes.

Draco Malfoy, trembling, his fair skin almost transparent in his paleness, with deep, desperate pools of eyes; more shaken than he had ever been during the past year, even after he had nearly bled to death after Potter's attack.

_NO_ Potter anywhere in sight, what not necessarily meant anything.

And Dumbledore again, his old face etched with pain. Iron determination still glowing behind those strangely innocent blue eyes, negating the weakness of body.

_You already agreed to do it. And now I do not wish to hear another word. _

It was possible that one of the Death Eaters said something but it drowned in the voices screaming in his head and the one single, whispered word of the old headmaster.

"Severus..."

_You take too much for granted! _

Snape moved forward, shoving Malfoy out of the way, pushed past the four Death Eaters without seeing any of them, without seeing anything but Dumbledore's eyes, directed unwaveringly at him and only him. _SEEING_ him - _HIM_ without silently weighing possibilities and chances somewhere in the back of this amazing, tremendous, calculating brain. Giving him his full and undivided attention. Finally. For the very first time.

He had never hated anybody that much with all his heart.

_What if I don't want to do it any more?_

And Dumbledore must have seen something in his eyes because he spoke again in this feeble, totally unfamiliar voice. "Severus ... please..."

A plea. Not and order. A plea. Stupid, sentimental, brilliant old man.

_You already agreed to do it. _

He had. He had. His will, his wand, his lips were as one. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

_And now I do not wish to hear another word._

It was over in a flash, in a second and maybe that was what surprised him most.

The invisible ashes of the vow he had made to Narcissa last summer rained gently off his hand, scattered softly in the cool night breeze. Leaving the fiery chains he had accepted what now seemed like more than a lifetime ago to burn brighter, fiercer than ever before.

He didn't watch Dumbledore fall. It wasn't necessary. He had never missed a killing curse yet.

Now he only had to get the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts with as little additional damage as possible. To save Draco from the Dark Lord's wrath. To stay alive. Until the day the prophecy the old man had finally told him completely was fulfilled. What ever that meant.

"Out of here, quickly."

He shoved Malfoy down the stairs in front of him, knowing the others would follow. Dived back into confusion and dust and voices screaming hexes and jinxes; called again for the rest to get going as he forced his way through the fight. Later there would be time to think. Later there would be time for guilt. Later there would be time to hate.

_You take too much for granted! What if I don't want to do it any more?_

_You already agreed to do it. And now I do not wish to hear another word. _

_And now I do not wish to hear another word._

Maybe the boggart had been right all along.

Because the only thing he did not feel was regret.


	2. Boggart's Truth

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Sorry it took so long but real life was really busy. Thank you for your reviews.

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**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potions classroom **

_... should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, the Draught of Living Death ... never had a student produce finer on a first attempt ... I don't think even you, Severus... _

Slughorn's booming voice continued to echo through Snape's head as he stared at the battered looking door of the corner cupboard in his old classroom, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. His eyes tracing the scarred and discoloured wood, rough from the steam of countless potions.

He must have opened and shut that cupboard more than a hundred times in the course of the years, handing out scales and textbooks and other school supplies to students or putting them back in. Always knowing it was there in the bottom, hidden in shadows and protected by the enchantments he had placed upon it such a long time ago. Feeling its magic weaken as time went by, fading until it was nothing more but a faint memory of the powerful pull it had once been. When even far away from Hogwarts he had always known it was there.

_... never had a student produce finer on a first attempt ... I don't think even you, Severus... _

Maybe the last spells had finally worn off. It would certainly explain Potter's sudden and rather spectacular improved brewing skills because while Slughorn was ignorant and an idiot and only interested in his own welfare he sure knew his potions... And Potter had had to owl for his own book, not expecting to be allowed to continue the subject.

_... I don't think even you, Severus ... I don't think even you... _

No. Not even he.

Snape slowly unfolded his arms but instead of reaching out he turned abruptly and found himself striding back across the room towards the door, just as he had done at least three other times since that fateful Christmas party. Telling himself yet again that he had more important things on his mind than the whereabouts of an old copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. Even if it had been the one thing he had treasured most from the moment he had pulled it out of a dusty box with his mother's old textbooks and had first marvelled at the delicious sounds of those strange words so difficult to read for a seven-year old.

Shoving these thoughts roughly aside Snape scooped up the long black travelling cloak he had left near the entrance before extinguishing the few torches he had lit with a flick of his wand and flinging the heavy door shut behind him. He was supposed to meet Dumbledore outside in less than a half an hour and he didn't intend to be late. He had just enough time to get rid of that Boggart Filch had discovered in one of the third floor classrooms.

An angry scowl darkened Snape's sallow face as he stalked down the dimly lit dungeon corridor.

How anyone could employ a Squib as caretaker in a castle with hundreds of would-be witches and wizards would be forever beyond his understanding. Any kind of small magical creatures were _BOUND_ to be drawn by them and most had little problems to seep through the wards around the school grounds designed for far more dangerous intruders. Sometimes he really felt like the nursemaid of the castle. Especially since Filch had started bothering him even with things he had formerly taken to McGonagall or Flitwick now that they - how had he put it? - 'finally' had a 'competent' Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He wouldn't be the least surprised if Dumbledore had had a hand in that too.

Snape snorted disgustedly, causing some first-years in the Entrance Hall to squeak faintly and nearly melt into the hour-glasses as he headed for the next staircase.

No, he held no illusion whatsoever he'd have got the job if the old headmaster hadn't wanted Slughorn back at the school for some obscure reasons. Not even now when it didn't matter any more. And keeping him busy would just fit Dumbledore's wretched sense of humour ... as would be dragging him on another night hike through the Forbidden Forest while lecturing him about his not-existing progress in uncovering Draco Malfoy's plans. As if he needed to be told that he seemed to have lost his so carefully cultivated grip on the boy at the most inconvenient of times.

Bellatrix Lestrange and her blasted jealousy. The woman had done more damage than he had thought possible in one summer. But then of course Draco had been easy prey considering the circumstances. The seemingly infallible father suddenly openly unmasked as a Death Eater and imprisoned in Azkaban. Probably the disturbing discovery that the normally so composed mother was now sometimes weeping behind carefully locked doors. Not to mention to be assigned a terrible task under dead threat from one of the most dangerous men of this century. If man was still the right term.

A shifting flight of stairs forced Snape to stop and change direction and he swore unpleasantly under his breath because of the detour. Some things he would definitely _NOT_ miss! Climbing up the steps to his left his thoughts returned to his earlier musing.

Ah, yes, Draco and his stubborn pride that didn't allow him to admit defeat even if it was obvious his usual cocky bravado was coming crashing down on him the nearer the end of the year drew. Well, at least Dumbledore cared for the boy as much as for any other student in his school even if he was a Slytherin and was deeply concerned for his safety. Because he was bound to fail the task set by the Dark Lord. The old headmaster knew that as well as he - Snape - did. Draco was many things and most of them were not good but he wasn't a killer. Not yet, not face to face. In a few years maybe - after life taught him some ugly lessons but no, not yet. Although he might well end up killing someone by sheer accident in his current despair. But that was something totally different.

Rounding a corner Snape nearly walked into a group of chattering fifth-year girls that scattered quickly in abrupt silence after one menacing glare. Smirking in dark satisfaction he proceeded down the corridor. It wasn't like he would have that pleasure much longer. A sharp frown replaced the smirk at that thought.

He couldn't help being somewhat impressed with Dumbledore's determination to do anything - _ANYTHING_ necessary to defeat the Dark Lord. And with his insight that time was working against him.

He was no longer the man a young Death Eater had turned to so many years ago despite his seething animosity and still lasting anger ... they both knew it. He was still powerful, yes, the fight in the Ministry had proven that beyond any doubt. He was still the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, the head of the Order of the Phoenix, leader of the resistance. Yes. But fifteen years were a long time for a man of his age even in wizarding world. And each year to come would turn chances more against him because they counted twofold, threefold, fourfold for him but not for others.

His death on the other hand - especially from the hand of a traitor within his own ranks - would hopefully make the Dark Lord careless enough to give Potter the tiny advantage that decided over triumph or defeat. It would force Potter to mature quicker and more effective than he ever could under the old man's protective wing, giving him the strength and burning determination he would need to follow and maybe survive the path set for him by a faceless, merciless fate. And it would unite the wizarding community in grief and shock and the desire for revenge if only for a short time. Maybe it would even serve to smooth the ruffled feathers of the Ministry although it was doubtful Potter possessed the diplomatic skills for that and it didn't really matter anyway.

Not to mention that there were possibly a million more reasons Snape couldn't even dream about and Dumbledore would never tell him. Even if it was him to take the full blow of public rage. Even if it was him to take the role of the traitor. But then - and Snape couldn't help a cynical sneer at that thought - he had long since given up any hope to win this annoying popularity contest called life.

Pushing open a door to the right Snape strode into the empty classroom behind it and shook his cloak off his arm, draping it over a chair. Looking around his eyes fell instantly on a waist-high cupboard opposite the entrance, shaking ominously now that the creature inside was feeling a human presence in the room. Slowly he closed the door and took out his wand.

Of all dark creatures he found Boggarts the most ... unsettling. Of course it happened extremely seldom the shape-shifters actually scared someone to death but just the concept of using one's deepest fears was a bit uncomfortable. Therefore he had always been somewhat grateful that he had only encountered two of them so far in his entire life.

The first one - he had been five or six - had assumed the form of his father. His mother had found him and had actually embraced him a little awkwardly what had scared him just as much because it was so unlike her normal behaviour, she had never been good at showing affection... Had assured him almost gently and with a confusing trace of guilt in her voice he hadn't understood that his father would never lay a finger on him. In the end it was one of the few things she had ever been right about when it came to his father for the man had never touched _HIM_.

The only Boggart he had met in his adult life had become a werewolf - no doubt courtesy of Mr Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and not to forget Wormtail. But by then he had had some very detailed ideas how to deal with that kind of monster. The Boggart had experienced a rather unpleasant surprise.

Still smirking smugly at the memory Snape pointed his wand at the cupboard and the door burst open, banged against the front of its neighbour and bounced back, coming to a halt half-ajar.

For several seconds a strange silence vibrated in the big deserted room; echoed loudly, inaudibly, threateningly through the deep - too deep - shadows in the enclosed space. Then a vague, sliding movement in the darkness, the soft rustle of clothes. The still door slowly swung outwards as if on its own. Dark robes whispered quietly on the floor, billowing as a long leg stretched out almost gracefully.

Snape's lips opened slightly.

Leather soles creaked gently on stone as the figure shifted its weight and ducked with terrifying elegance through the narrow opening. Big - way too big - for the small space it came from but there nevertheless, unfolding in leisurely grace until it, until _HE_ straightened to his full height, allowing greasy black hair to fall on his shoulders. And then it - and then _HE_ started turning, agonizingly slow, first the head, then the shoulders and then the rest of the body, revealing a sallow face with harsh lines and an enormous hooked nose, framed by the curtain of dark, glistening hair.

Obsidian eyes bored into obsidian eyes.

And then Severus Snape in front of the cupboard almost lazily lifted his hands and smoothed down the front of his robes while Severus Snape in the middle of the room watched in disbelief. Leaving streaks of something wet, something crimson on the dark cloth. Curling his upper lip in a knowing sneer.

An indignant shriek outside the room - "No! Give that back! Colin!" - children's laughter and pounding footsteps of a wild chase down the corridor.

Severus Snape in the middle of the room gasped abruptly as if jerked awake from deep sleep while Severus Snape in front of the cupboard made an angry gesture as if to advance on his prey. But Severus Snape - the real Snape or at least the part of him that was still functioning, the cold, emotionless part that had kept him alive through countless meetings with the Dark Lord - stepped back and brandished his wand.

"_RIDDIKULUS_!"

The Boggart stumbled and blinked. A moment the two faces that looked like some kind of sick twins stared at each other. Only that the Snape in front of the cupboard now had long, grey, almost white hair and a beard that fell down on his chest. Deep lines of age were etched in his harsh features while one hand was gripping a knobbly walking stick.

And just the thought he could ever live that long - after what he had done, after what he was doing, after what he was _GOING_ to do - was ridiculous enough to rip a bark of hysterical laughter from Snape's throat.

And mirthless as it was, it held enough bitter amusement that the Boggart burst in a fading puff of black smoke.


	3. Night Hike

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: I apologize for abandoning this story for so long and unfortunately I can't promise it will go much faster but anyway, here's the next chapter.

Time frame: OotP towards the end of the year

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**- Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest **

He was hot. He was sweaty. And it hadn't improved his already sour mood _THE LEAST_ that he had almost walked straight into a nest of oversized spiders within the first hour. If he ever got his hand on Hagrid again the half-giant would regret it dearly. Acromantula were not even supposed to be found in this part of the world!

Pausing Severus Snape heaved a deep sigh and peeled a strand of greasy hair off his sticky face.

Just to think that only seven months ago he had considered things to go rather nicely. He had survived answering a summons of the Dark Lord inexcusable late, had he not? What was more his makeshift explanations for the delay had actually catapulted him to a higher rank among the Death Eaters than ever before; certainly much higher than the position he had held fifteen years ago. Something he would never have dreamt about after waking so abruptly in that broom shed under the Quidditch stadium.

And then, to make his life perfect, fate had handed him Sirius Black on a silver platter. Oh, revenge had been so sweet when his archenemy had finally been trapped in a place where neither his wand nor the pathetic rest of his friends were able to protect him anymore. When he had been forced to look on as others came and went or listened intently to the things he - Snape - had had to tell them. And the man had been so easy to taunt and tease, had reacted so wonderfully to the slightest jibes it had been almost ridiculous... Too bad Black lacked any judgement when it was necessary to stop quarrelling and be serious.

Snape barely suppressed a second sigh while his left hand strayed once more towards the old-fashioned pair of horn-rimmed glasses on his hooked nose. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the smooth material under his fingertips, caused more by the blurred, half-forgotten memories it brought up than by the actual contact.

The memory of being safely encircled by a pair of warm arms. Of large, work-worn hands turning pages with surprising gentleness. Of his father's low voice murmuring at his ear, reading muggle fairy tales and being relaxed in a way that triggered the foggy knowledge that his mother must not be at home.

Blinking rapidly Snape shook his head and scolded himself for letting his mind wander. This was neither the time nor the place for reminiscences. His father's old reading glasses had been the first suitable object for a night vision spell he got his hands on when he had hectically rummaged through his rooms after his last - disastrous - contact with the order. So they simply had to do. There were a few things more stupid than running through the Forbidden Forest with a lit wand after nightfall but really not many. Like running through the Forbidden Forest after nightfall at all. What brought him back to the reason for all his troubles.

Potter.

At the mere thought the fire of Snape's ever-burning anger flared up again and for a moment he literally shook with rage, hot waves of blind fury radiating from him. Causing the thorny tentacles descending menacingly from above to freeze abruptly in mid-air, hesitate a second and then silently withdraw into the dark leaves high overhead.

He had told Dumbledore it would never do. He had told him when the headmaster had first suggested Occlumency lessons for Potter. He had told him when the boy had refused to make any progress in the course of several months. And he had continued to tell him at any order meeting after the old man had gone and gotten himself driven out of his own school for the _SECOND_ _TIME_ in less than _FOUR_ years. After he had found the brat with his nosy face in his memories he had simply stopped telling him.

Breathing deeply through clenched teeth Snape deliberately relaxed his grip on his wand before he could do serious damage to the precious instrument. At least Potter had no idea _WHY_ this special memory had earned its place in the Pensive, as little comfort as that was. Shoving the glasses viciously - and rather unnecessarily because of the stick-in-place charm on them - up his nose Snape abruptly set out again at a brisk pace.

Ten minutes later he somewhat surprised slowed his steps down. Not without reason he considered himself in rather good shape, the calming effect of physical exercise on his flaring temper being a well-practiced fact all over Hogwarts endless corridors. But now his shortened breath and new sweat soaking the back of his robes reminded him not very kindly of the distance he had already covered tonight. A worrisome information and as he trudged on through the ominous darkness Snape couldn't help feeling more and more anxious.

He should have found them by now. They were teenagers after all, half-grown children and as fifth-years not able to Apparate - hopefully. Blind Apparition was a stupid thing per definition but Apparating blindly in the Forbidden Forest bordered on attempted suicide. Unfortunately that left the disturbing question how they had gotten so far in so little time ... especially considering the fact that Neville Longbottom was one of them. Something Snape still regarded with stunned disbelief - and seething anger.

How dared that boy. Potter and his two friends that had to be expected. And that the youngest Weasley had finally ended up in the group was not really a surprise either. Loona Lovegood definitely was but _NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM _... simply had no right. The boy was nothing. The boy would always be nothing. He had been nothing fifteen years ago, hadn't been worth a second thought when the Dark Lord made up his mind about the prophecy and chose to kill his future enemy in the cradle so _WHERE DID HE NOW TAKE THE DAMN RIGHT TO MEDDLE IN THIS!_ He should have let Crabbe suffocate him and -

A sharp screeching sound to his right made Snape spin and duck, wand outstretched, all senses strained in alarm.

Deafening silence met his ears interrupted only by his own erratic breathing. The sweat soaked robes clung suddenly cold to his back. His eyes wandered quickly from left to right and back again, searching for movement in the impenetrable shadows. Slowly his bend legs started aching as minutes stretched like hours. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. At least he hoped it was an owl. But the sound didn't repeat itself.

Finally Snape straightened up again, wand still at the ready. Everything was silent. Keeping a suspicious eye on his surroundings he made a careful step - and sunk knee-deep into formerly solid ground.

His heart leaped into his throat but despite his shocked surprise he threw up his arms, twirling the wand as he did and barked an incantation. The stomach-turning descent stopped just as filthy wetness engulfed him to the hip. Tightening the grip of his left hand around the hook he had conjured out of thin air Snape took a shaking breath.

About a dozen counter-charms, spells and (non-magical) curses later he had managed to levitate himself out of the slimy mass and manoeuvre back on solid ground. Tugging at his soiled robes he nearly retched at the foul stench that rose from the mud clinging to his clothes. Hastily he applied three cleaning spells in quick succession. He didn't dare think of the composition of the disgusting substance in spite of all resistance gained by daily handling of potion ingredients. A closer inspection showed that the heavy boots and thick trousers he had decided to wear underneath for this special task - ignoring the indignant outcry of his mother's voice in his head, the woman had had very strong opinions concerning proper attire for a wizard - were punctured all over with tiny holes. A sufficient explanation for the burning sensation up and down his legs.

Grimacing Snape added a minor healing spell and then, in a fit of temper, blasted the newly dried-over hole of the mud demon apart.

The next second he yelped involuntarily because the annoyed screech of the little creature drowned in a sudden cacophony of scratching, roaring sounds. Unbearable bright light flooded the woods and Snape jumped back, momentarily blinded, nevertheless conjuring up the strongest shield he could manage and bracing for the impact.

It never came. Only the terrible - although vaguely familiar - noise continued, now completed by strange creaking rumbling.

Shielding his eyes against the light Snape first tilted his head then made some slow steps to the side. His eyebrows nearly disappeared in his hairline.

Well, well, the Weasley car. And it looked like the old Ford Anglia had finally met its match. Snape pulled off his glasses and surveyed the scene in front of him with clinical indifference.

The bewitched muggle car was almost lying on its side, half slammed against a thick tree and half propped up on the stump of another, obviously taken down as it had tumbled into this awkward position. The broken wood was lifting it just enough so that the wheels on its right side rotated useless in the air. Those on the left side seemed to have touched the ground at first because they had dug deep holes in the earth while the car had swayed helplessly back and forth over the fallen trunk. Now they too whirled mere inches above the saving surface without reaching it any longer.

Snape shrugged and turned away. Blocking out the continuing noise he put his glasses back on and looked around then up and down. Satisfied he placed his wand on his flat palm and whispered: "Point me Harry Potter."

The wand spun once in a full circle and pointed straight ahead.

Snape pursed his lips, glanced quickly around and then whispered: "Point me Ronald Weasley."

The wand didn't even budge.

A frown crept on Snape's face. "Point me Hermione Granger."

Same result.

Snape's frown deepened. He thought for a second. "Point me Dolores Umbridge."

The wand spun once and pointed to his left, almost back in the direction he had come from. Snape sighed in frustration.

It was no use. The modified Four-Point Spell war working and that left only two possibilities. Either Potter and his friends were very, very close together - not necessarily a good thing in the Forbidden Forest considering the creatures hunting there - or they were very far away. What would also explain why he had not been able to detect any traces of them behind the small clearing littered with broken arrows, disturbingly large drops of blood and completely trampled by hoofs and what looked entirely too much like giant footprints.

Sighing again Snape shook his head. No, it was no use. He needed to go back to Hogwarts and look up a more detailed locating spell maybe even ask one of the other teachers for help. As much as he loathed involving anyone outside the order but this was getting too dangerous with Potter outside the save boundaries of the school and the Dark Lord up to something. If only Minerva hadn't been stunned right into St Mungo's.

At this last admission Snape smiled rather wryly. Who would have thought he'd ever miss the sharp-tongued Head of Gryffindor?

Stepping to a clear spot on the forest floor Snape threw one last uninterested look at the Weasley car. It was still roaring and struggling, swinging fruitlessly back and forth on the fallen tree. He concentrated and lifted his arms to Apparate then dropped them again, glancing once more over his shoulder.

The car reminded of nothing as much as of a small beetle lying on its back, fighting and fighting without any hope of success or rescue.

He rolled his eyes and turned away, concentrated a second time on his destination and once more stopped. Behind his back the engine roared and roared and roared... Snape spun abruptly, swinging his wand in a graceful arc like a fencer moving in for the kill and a red jet shot from its tip.

The tree stump burst to pieces and the car slammed down on all four wheels with a resounding crash. Dirt and dry leaves flew up like a fountain as the engine howled wildly and the next moment the car sped away like a dog with fire on its tail, weaving skilfully through the trees. The bobbing headlights grew smaller and smaller and just before they disappeared completely in the darkness the battered Ford Anglia honked twice.

Snape allowed himself a small smile. With a little luck the car would go and annoy some spiders.

He would like that.


	4. Risen

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: GoF

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**- A dark place **

The sound rose and fell. Long waves lapping at the shore, breaking to white foam over sand and gravel then drawing back, only to return a moment later. A never-ending, ever-changing melody that had something soothing, hypnotic almost...

But what the heck should he be doing by the sea?

That question - although it needed quite some time to worm its way into his foggy brain - somehow proved rather insistent.

Severus Snape slowly became aware that he was lying, smooth stone against his left cheek, cold under his hands. His limbs were heavy; numb like the rest of his body except for an unpleasant tingling sensation directly along his spine and a faint headache, throbbing just above his left eyebrow. His head seemed stuffed with cobwebs. Even to think of moving was too much an effort and so he simply stayed were he was, face down on the ground.

Besides, playing dead was never a bad idea when waking in unknown locations.

He would have smiled wryly had he had the strength.

Time passed. The sea hissed and breathed, whispered with many different voices. He drifted along, not really awake but not really unconscious either. The tingling sensation crawled down his back and up again, spreading slowly to his arms and fingertips only to withdraw a moment later and travel all the way down to his toes. He had not known that one's body could feel so chained to the floor. Every heartbeat, every intake of breath so overly prominent, exhausting even.

Parting his lips slightly in an attempt to ease his breathing Snape made a strange discovery. The air tasted of ... sweat. Old sweat and the memory of mud clinging to wet clothes. And above all the unmistakable smell of dry wood and broomcare, sickeningly sweet.

He dreamt. He knew he dreamt - of a room he idly recognized as the broomshed under the Quidditch stadium, with broomsticks lined up against the wooden walls, hanging from gleaming hooks at the ceiling, crates with spare handles and bundles of new twigs neatly piled at the back. He had to be dreaming because he had no reason whatsoever to be there, no desire whatsoever to invade Madam Hooch's treasured refuge; the last time he had set foot in there in fact three years ago after refereeing that Quidditch match to keep Potter out of trouble.

Strange, but in his befuddled state the memory lacked much of its usual anger.

But there was something about Potter and trouble... Something important, something he should remember, needed to remember...

Aaah, yes. Of course. Potter - true son of his father that he was - had once more managed to poke his nose into things none of his business and sneak his way into the Triwizard Tournament as a second Hogwarts champion. And suddenly the pulsing sound that had continued to roll over him all the time got a completely different meaning. It wasn't the sea. It was a crowd. A huge, distant crowd; hundreds of people talking at the same time, their voices blending together until it was one unintelligible roaring noise in the background. It was the night of the third task.

Snape blinked or better he tried to blink, his leaden eyelids merely fluttering before falling shut again. But somehow that didn't matter much. From what he had glimpsed it was dark around him anyway and actually so much easier to drift back into his comfortable reverie than to try and sort things out.

Unfortunately a tiny nagging voice in the back of his head insisted he should do exactly that.

It had a point though. How _DID_ he get here? He had been in the top box with Dumbledore and his more important guests when the champions entered the maze that much he remembered. And watching the third task had turned out to be even more boring than staring at the lake for an hour because the magical map that was supposed to keep everybody informed about the progress behind those hedges had malfunctioned within the first ten minutes. Any attempt at repair had proved futile, leaving Mad-Eye Moody the only one to assess completely what was going on inside.

Under different circumstances Snape would have snorted disgustedly.

At least - at _LEAST_ Dumbledore had taken great pains to explain his choices in detail this time. Had probably been afraid to find his Potions master's resignation on his desk again. But even warned and grudgingly accepting the old man's reasoning the year had been bad enough.

Whatever the advantages of having the ancient Auror around with so many strangers all over the school - Moody had never forgiven that he had not been informed when Snape turned spy for the Order. Completely ignoring the fact that actually nobody had been ... well, except one but that one was dead. Anyway, of course it was not his dear friend Dumbledore the old bastard was blaming. No, he had conveniently settled for a much easier target. To make things worse Mad-Eye might well have fallen in disgrace with the Ministry - thank Merlin for that! - but he _STILL_ had enough influence to be dangerous for an ex-Death Eater. Especially now that the Dark Mark was coming back. Add that fool Karkaroff to the mix and you got a really explosive concoction.

Barging in on his forth-year Potions class and almost showing his arm in front of the students, really. Not without reason he had tried to avoid the man all year. Unfortunately Karkaroff - as headmaster of Durmstrang however that had happened - had of course been invited into the top box too. But even that blasted idiot had had enough sense to keep his mouth shut about certain things in the presence of the Minister for Magic himself.

Snape managed a weak frown as his wandering mind returned abruptly to the events of this evening.

This evening... He had borne the noise of the meaningless conversations all around him - from time to time interrupted by Bagman's magically magnified voice repeating Moody's constant "all's still reasonably well inside but no one has reached the Cup yet" - as long as he could. Astonishingly long, in fact. But finally he had silently slipped from his seat in the back to escape downstairs for a while. It had been time to show himself among the students and scare them back to order anyway.

Unfortunately luck was not with him tonight. On the bottom step he had run straight into Karkaroff, returning from the hospital wing, and the man had immediately started ranting about cheating and unfair treatment of his school champion. He just caught that Krum as well as Miss Delacour were still unconscious when inevitably the topic had turned to more serious things. So, since he could not get rid of the nervous wizard, he had allowed himself to be dragged into the near broomshed albeit with gritted teeth. And then...

_HIS DARK MARK HAD BURNT! _

Snape's eyes snapped open and he shot up, crashed head first into brooms and went down again, shielding his face against tumbling wood. Kicking and flailing he struggled up a second time, twigs breaking under his feet as he stumbled over invisible sticks. He found the handle by hitting his hand rather painfully, jerked the door open and staggered out, only a convenient pillar keeping him from falling flat on his face.

_He had not answered a summons! _

Panic and fear shook him like a leaf as he gripped his left forearm with crushing force. Ripping his sleeve back without thinking he stared wildly at the ugly mark on his skin, black, burning black and frighteningly clear. Full understanding turned his blood to ice.

He had not answered a summons of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had risen, the Dark Lord had really risen again and he - he had not answered His summons. He was dead. He was dead, he was - was dead, he was ... where was his wand?

Snape abruptly let go of his arm and started patting his pockets frantically.

Where was his... Utter humiliation and embarrassment swept over him as he found the precious instrument in its usual place. How _COULD_ he have been so stupid and turn his back to Karkaroff? How could he _EVER_ explain this to the Dark Lord without being hexed into oblivion if not simply killed on the spot? Yes, he and Dumbledore had made plans what to do if He should rise again; at least as much as you could make plans for the unpredictable... But none of these plans ever involved _not answering a summons! _

Dumbledore. He had to find Dumbledore. The old man would know what to do.

Fighting for a tiny scrap of control Snape pushed off the pillar. His legs were like jelly and swearing he wondered what other curses Karkaroff had thrown at him in his panic. Oh, if he ever got Igor in front of his wand again he would put the hexes he had learned from his mother to good use!

Stumbling from left to right Snape somehow managed to stay on his feet and move forward although swaying dangerously. His vision blurred and cleared then blurred again. The roar of the crowd filled his ears. His outstretched hands met a wooden wall and gratefully he followed it, feeling his way along rough planks. Then his fingers touched only empty air and he staggered to a halt, realizing too late that in his confusion he had taken the wrong direction. The Quidditch pitch opened in front of him and there - dark against the towering hedges of the maze - stood a bent, disfigured shadow, staring at him.

Time froze.

The noise of the crowd died away, taking Snape's breath with it.

He could not move, could not look away, could do nothing but watch as the dark figure lifted a wooden leg and slammed it back down on the ground, lifted it and slammed it down; the sound almost visible, a dull, menacing _thump_, _thump_ on the grass that seemed to vibrate in his very soul. And still a beady black eye stared at him out of the lopsided face while the other, unnaturally blue, was rotating violently in any direction before suddenly fastening on him with terrifying stillness. The mismatched eyes widened, raw emotion burning deep inside as the man took another step and Snape recoiled from this gaze like from a physical blow, unconsciously cradling his left arm to his chest.

This was more than wounded pride of a stubborn man. This was more than obsessed distrust. This was far more than deepest personal dislike. This was hate. Burning, smouldering, all-consuming hate. Hate of such wild, intense madness as Snape had never seen in his life.

He turned and fled without a second thought.

And as he ran the veil around his mind finally tore apart.

"Dumbledore!"

Staggering up the last stairs and into the top box he ruthlessly forced his way to the front row where Dumbledore still sat and listened with a slightly dazed expression to Fudge's ongoing monolog.

"Dumbledore!"

The innocent blue eyes snapped up with unexpected alertness and suddenly the old wizard was on his feet just as Snape - throwing caution to the wind - cast the strongest _Muffliato_ he could manage around them.

"Dumbledore, the Dark Lord -"

A deafening scream of many voices erupted from the stands as people jumped from their seats, cutting him short. They spun around.

Down in the pitch three things had suddenly appeared directly in front of the maze.

Cedric Diggory, lying with the terrible stillness of a broken doll. The Triwizard Cup, toppled onto its side. And Harry Potter, face down in the middle, clutching them both.


	5. Secret Keeper

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: PoA

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Dungeons **

His footsteps echoed quietly in the unusual silence, now that most students were off to the last Hogsmeade visit before the end of term or at least outside, enjoying the heat and sun. His robes whispered softly on cool stone. Down here in the dungeons it was gloomy despite the torches frequently lit along the walls of the windowless corridor. As gloomy as his mood. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore allowed himself a small sigh.

Fate indeed had strange humour. The events of last night had more than proved that point.

A moment Dumbledore's gaze travelled upwards, as if it could penetrate the massive walls of the castle and see the skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy he had just left in an abandoned office. Or even higher, all the way up to North Tower and the strange, round room near the top. The strange, ridiculous woman with her shawls and teacups who had no idea that real talent slumbered behind her overdone mysterious behaviour, stepping forth at the most unexpected of times. Involuntarily he sighed a second time.

If only he had known. If only they had talked to him - then, there, all those years ago - it would have made all the difference. But he had forgotten how young they had been. Of age but still almost children, ready to fight the looming darkness but still innocent in their mind... James, Sirius, they had thought themselves so smart because they _HAD_ been smart but inexperienced, so terribly inexperienced when it came to the luring call of power. And now it was too late to change the past. Maybe even the future.

Stopping in front of a heavy wooden door Dumbledore briefly put his hand against one of the many pockets in his long wizard robes. Nothing innocent was in his blue eyes now. No amused sparkle. Sybill Trelawney wasn't the only teacher he kept at this school for reasons he'd rather explain to no one. Wasn't the only teacher he could not afford to let go. How had poor Gideon put it all these years ago? A tiger by the tail. He raised his hand and knocked.

A deep voice, muffled through the wood, told him to enter. Dumbledore took a breath and opened the door.

Hundreds of glass jars gleaming eerily on long lines of shelves, illuminated by few but well placed candles instantly drew his eye. Their silent inhabitants seemed to drift slightly, imperceptibly in the many coloured liquid surrounding them but any time one took another look they appeared back in their original place only to move again as soon as one turned his back. Invisible eyes seemed to follow the slow progress of any intruder across the shadowy room after he or she had shut the door that closed without a sound; the weight of a not existing, merciless observation rested heavily on anybody who finally stopped in front of what was said to be the most feared desk of the castle. A masterpiece of subtle manipulation that never ceased to amaze him.

Dumbledore's gaze fell for a long minute on the neat stacks of examination papers piled on top of the massive desk as he came to a halt in front of it and he couldn't help feeling pity for the unfortunate students who had had their work corrected this morning. He only hoped neither Harry, Granger nor the Weasley boy were among them, small as the chance might be. Then he finally looked up and met the eyes of the dark-clad man standing on the other side.

"Severus."

"Headmaster."

The silence in the room was something corporeal, heavy, a tension ready to explode at any second with devastating effect. The two men were watching each other warily, faces guarded, each waiting for the other to make the first move, to set the stage for what was to come. Dumbledore could feel the echo of Snape's soft reply vibrate in the stillness of the moment. Black silk slithering over deadly steel. He kept his own voice very calm.

"Remus has just left."

An outsider would have missed it. Would have missed the tiny spark of uneasiness flickering for the briefest moment at the bottom of Snape's black, fathomless eyes. But not Dumbledore. And he wasn't above feeling a grim kind of satisfaction. Severus had gone too far this morning at breakfast in telling the Slytherins about Lupin and he well knew it.

Unfortunately he hadn't been the only one who had gone too far.

Dumbledore slowly reached inside his pocket and pulled out one single, carefully folded sheet of paper.

"I can not say that I was overly surprised we once more lost our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher before the end of year." He still spoke calmly, almost soft. "I was, however, not expecting to find my Potions masters resignation on my desk as well."

Again the silence descended on them, like a suffocating blanket. Snape was looking at the piece of paper in the motionless, aged hand, his face unreadable, without expression. Whatever thoughts were running through his head behind the cold mask of self-control would forever be his secret. Then he finally lifted his eyes.

"If you have come to change my mind you wasted your time. I will not reconsider."

"Is an old schoolboy's grudge worth throwing away any chance of defeating the most dangerous wizard of our century?"

The explosion Dumbledore had secretly been waiting for, yes, even hoped for didn't come. Snape merely tilted his head a tiny bit and a ghost of an unpleasant smile played around his thin lips.

"Throwing away? I don't think so. _IF_ He rises again it could actually be an advantage if I am no longer at Hogwarts. He would feel more inclined to believe that I never wavered in my devotion to him. I've got to make amends considering the disaster around the Philosopher's Stone."

"Would you really deny the reality of his return? His near return? You? Of all people?" Dumbledore nodded quietly when he got no answer. "I thought so. And I am afraid to disappoint you but it would look rather suspicious if you left now while you did not two years ago after he had shown himself for the first time. A faithful servant would have gone after him, would have searched for his master then. If only," he smiled faintly, "to make amends."

"Maybe I could not leave without raising _YOUR_ suspicion. Then." The silk was back, although barely hiding the sharp blade underneath this time. "Maybe I was waiting for the right opportunity ever since. Maybe you just gave me enough reason to do it now last night."

Dumbledore put the folded resignation on the desk and rested his fingertips on it. "That could be a possibility but nevertheless you would be useless for him without a connection to Hogwarts. To me."

"I'd have the knowledge of twelve years."

"But would that be enough?"

Snape tilted his head the other direction. "Maybe."

"It would not," Dumbledore said firmly. "Your value will be your access to my inner circle. Your ability to deceive me and those I trust, to keep him informed about our plans. He ordered you into this school, into my presence in the vague hope you would accomplish just that, did he not? Although he never expected you to succeed. You know I am right, Severus."

"Maybe." Snape's eyes glinted angrily. His lips were barely moving. "But still, I will not stay. I've got enough, _Headmaster_. I won't take this any longer. And you can't make me."

"Can't I?"

The softly spoken words hung in the ugly silence. And then Dumbledore felt a pang of sudden, unfamiliar worry as the unpleasant smile returned to Snape's lips.

"No, you can't." Snape's voice was barely a whisper, yet vibrating with triumphant malice. "Not this time. My leaving has nothing to do with the Dark Lord and you know it."

"I thought we just agreed it would affect your possibilities as his spy..."

"I don't have to be a part of this school for that. I don't have to be a teacher to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix if and when you reactivate it sometime in the future."

"You will no longer be near me. And you will no longer be near Harry Potter."

"Do you really think He would allow anybody to harm a hair of your precious boy's head? Not in the world. _HE_ will be the one to kill the famous Boy-Who-Lived. No one else. He owes it to his pride, his self-esteem. He needs it to restore his unaffected authority and power."

Dumbledore shrugged. His steady gaze was hard. "That would leave me then."

"Oh, we would stay in contact of course. And if he wants you dead it wouldn't take much. A confidential report, we two alone in a room..." Snape's eyes were glittering as he shook his head. "No, Dumbledore, I'm not breaking anything here. At least nothing that has not already been broken."

A long moment the two so different men stared at each other.

"I told you," Snape hissed suddenly. "All this year I told you he was not to be trusted."

"Remus did not help Black get into the castle."

"Did he not? He was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. If _HE_ didn't figure out how Black was able to get past the Dementors considering he _KNEW_ his friend was an illegal Animagus - who else should? But, oh, I forgot -" Snape's eyes were burning brightly, "- he never happened to mention that little fact, did he?"

Dumbledore folded his hands in his long sleeves. "Yes, we had a talk about that this morning. And I certainly expressed my disappointment."

"How mortifying." Snape sneered. "I'm sure the little werewolf was crushed. The little, _TAME_ werewolf who was running free all over the school in his youth!"

"That was part of our conversation too." Dumbledore's voice was still completely neutral. His eyes betrayed nothing.

Snape glared at him, his face twitching every now and then with suppressed emotions.

"Why?" he asked suddenly, his voice rising with every sentence. "He betrayed your trust, he broke every promise he gave you, every rule you set up. Why do you still speak up for him while you can not do the same thing for me? Why is his word still worth more than mine? Why is everyone's word still worth more than mine?"

"I take it, you are talking about this ... little scene we had last night?"

"YOU MADE A FOOL OF ME IN THE HOSPITAL WING!" For a moment, a split second Snape's face again showed the terrible, insane fury of the night before.

"Don't you rather mean you made a fool of yourself?"

"POTTER - HELPED - BLACK - ESCAPE!"

"Well, there's still the little fact that even Harry can't be in two places at the same time."

"He could. With Granger's Time-Turner. And you knew that all along."

It was hard to tell what was more terrible. The sudden calmness of Snape's voice or the fierce fire in his dark eyes. But Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows and even smiled.

"Ah, so you finally found that out, didn't you? I knew you would get the right idea as soon as you calmed down a bit. I guess I should be grateful you were so ... distracted by other things this year and - how shall I put it? - not up to your usual standard of observation. What did you do, check her timetables?"

"The exams she had taken." Snape's fists were clenched tightly. "Why? Why did you do that? Black's a murderer! He would have killed me, he killed a fellow wizard, he killed all those Muggles! He does not deserve one of your famous 'second chances'!"

"Well, last night brought a few things to light that change..."

"You can not be serious!" Snape looked livid. "Don't tell me you have fallen for that nonsense about Peter Pettigrew being alive!"

"Actually, yes. I talked to Sirius and also to Lupin this morning and..."

"You can't believe them! Black would have told you anything to escape the Dementors' kiss and -"

"The kiss you were so eager to have applied - on your own account?" Dumbledore's voice cut like a knife.

"The kiss was sanctioned by the Ministry..."

"And you were in such a hurry to serve, weren't you?" Now Dumbledore's eyes were flashing. "A place in the headlines for the man who brought Sirius Black to justice."

"I did not -"

"Finally all the recognition you did not get for the role you played in the first war against Voldemort!"

"I -"

"Order of Merlin, Second Class, maybe even First - oh, yes, the loss probably hit you hard!"

"Beyond the veil with the blasted order!" roared Snape furiously. "Black was a traitor! A murderer! He deserves the kiss!"

"Because of what he is supposed to have done in that alley or because of what he did to you in your youth?" Dumbledore knew he should stop but his temper and disappointment finally got the better of him.

"He tried to _KILL_ me!"

"And that's enough to justify you killing him?"

"He killed dozens of Muggles!"

"If only I could believe you acted because of something else than your own selfish pride -"

"He betrayed the Order!"

"- I really would have thought you would be able to outgrow your old grudges -"

"He betrayed YOU!"

"- but no, you still wallow in past injustice without giving a damn about the bigger picture..."

"_HE WAS THEIR SECRET-KEEPER!_" The scream seemed to be ripped from the bottom of Snape's soul. "And he gave them away! He gave her away to _VOLDEMORT_!"

Silence. Deep, deafening, suffocating silence. Then Snape abruptly spun around and slammed both hands against the shelf behind his desk, glass jars rattling and shaking as he gripped the wood hard, so hard as if he was trying to break it or maybe his own fingers.

And as Dumbledore stared open-mouthed at the heaving shoulders he suddenly understood what he should have realized more than two years ago; suddenly knew with terrible, shocking certainty what _EXACTLY_ the dark-haired Potions master must have seen in the Mirror of Erised.

"Oh, Severus..."

Not what he said. Never what he said, never what he had so stubbornly repeated over and over again all this year. But always the things he did not say.

Closing his eyes in pain Dumbledore lifted his face to the ceiling then shook his head and looked back at the trembling man who had turned away from him. Looked at the white knuckles clawing groaning wood. Deep sadness and regret shone in his ancient blue eyes.

"Oh, Severus, forgive an old man's mistake. But you are so good at this, so good at..."

At hiding, deceiving, manipulating; at making people see only what they wanted to see. But he said none of that. Instead he drew a long breath and as he spoke again his voice was low and steady.

"As you, as a teacher, know the Headmaster of Hogwarts has means to monitor any magical activity going on within the boundaries of this school. It is very strenuous and during the day at best extremely confusing and so not often used. But after Black's second intrusion I saw no other way to ensure the student's safety at night."

Dumbledore paused briefly and his tone became softer.

"I don't have to tell you why I was late to start the spell yesterday evening but you may imagine my surprise when, not long after I had set up my watch, I became aware of three huge outbursts of magic outside the castle. One was, of course, Professor Lupin's transformation into a wolf. The second was Sirius Black, changing into -" here Dumbledore hesitated a split second and then decided to set that special bit of information aside, "- his Animagus form. The third ... was Peter Pettigrew, assuming once more the form he had learned to take with the help of his old classmates when they became unregistered Animagi: A rat."

Calmly, seriously Dumbledore continued to lay out the often jumbled pieces of information he himself had only gathered last night and in the early hours of the following morning.

How Lupin - poor, without a job and since the unfortunate incident in their sixth year at Hogwarts more and more distanced from his friends - had been excluded from their plans because they had no longer dared to trust him. How James Potter and Sirius Black had decided to change the person of Secret-Keeper at the last possible moment without telling even him, Dumbledore. How Snape himself, while aware that someone was passing on information from within the Order, had not been high enough in the Dark Lord's esteem to find out who it was, not the least because he had failed to get the post of the Defence Against the Dark teacher at Hogwarts. How Pettigrew - tiny, fat, disregarded Peter Pettigrew - had betrayed the Potter's hiding place to his secret master and in the end managed to best Black after Voldemort's downfall by faking his own death. And how Black - in misplaced pride and guilt - had refused to scream out the truth and went to Azkaban in stubborn silence.

One by one Dumbledore put down all these titbits of information - where Pettigrew had hidden all those years, what had shaken Black out of his reproachful self-punishment and had let him to break free of his prison, the events of last night - until everything was spread out in front of Snape like a great, disorderly puzzle.

He knew better than to draw conclusions for the other man.

Whatever he thought of Snape's character, his morality, even his loyalty ... he knew better than to underestimate the amazing intelligence that worked behind those so carefully guarded eyes - as long as the man's flaring temper did not get in the way. Even now he could almost see how the Potions master's mind sorted through the mass of information he had just given him; picking up this, picking up that and turning it over and around, testing it like glittering jewels. Arranging the tiny fragments of facts in ever new patterns to see what made sense, what chain of events withstood best any critical examination. And when he finally reached his solution it was with a deep, low, menacing growl that vibrated in the still air.

"Pettigrew..."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and drew a deep, deep breath then opened them again, looked back at the tall man in black robes who still refused to face him. Looked at the long fingers still gripping the shelf with crushing force.

"So -" His gentle voice seemed an intruder in the all-consuming silence. "- I can expect my Potions master's annual application for the post of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher on my desk at the usual time?"

Long moments passed. Eternities. And then finally, slowly, the bent dark head nodded once.

"Good," whispered Dumbledore softly. "Good."


	6. Mirror Wishes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: PS before the start of terms

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster Office **

"And I still think it is a stupid plan."

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, barely managed to hide his amusement behind a tranquil nod as he looked at the tall, dark-clad man who had just taken a seat on the other side of his desk.

"Yes, I believe you've already mentioned that a couple of times, Severus. So - the preparations are finished?"

"Yes." Snape's sour expression did not soften. "You are aware that in little more than a month this school will be swarming with nosy, brainless, insufferable and completely irresponsible children?"

"I am. Have Fluffy and Professor Quirrell's troll settled well in their new accommodations?"

"Quite. As well as the Devil's Snare. And they all will have a never-ending supply of curious students to feed on as soon as you declare the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side out of bounds this year."

"That's splendid; I know Hagrid was a bit concerned about his little pet." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "And I am sure I will find some well-chosen words to impress the seriousness of the matter on our charges."

"As well-chosen as your little announcements concerning Filch's newest lists of forbidden items?"

A short smile played around Dumbledore's lips but his voice stayed firm. "It is decided, Severus. Hagrid will bring the Philosopher's Stone this evening."

"Hagrid."

"Hagrid, yes." Dumbledore's gaze had hardened at hearing the amount of contempt in that one word. "It seems you don't approve of my choice?"

"Oh, but how do you _DO_ get this impression?" Snape asked sarcastically.

Dumbledore's brows rose slightly. "Hagrid would protect the Stone with his life."

"Well, yes, he might die fighting if ambushed." Snape's upper lip curled into a sneer. "But he'd probably just have to be asked nicely."

"He is well aware of the importance of his appointed task."

"He can't hold his tongue."

"I trust Hagrid completely," Dumbledore said calmly. "As I trust you."

Snape's laugh was not pleasant. "Well, that says all about it, doesn't it?"

A moment they just stared at each other, one in silent contemplation the other in unspoken challenge. Then Dumbledore smiled in his typical indifferent way.

"Has Filius settled his little dispute with Madam Hooch about the use of school brooms?"

Snape's eyes narrowed for a second then he nodded curtly. "Yes."

"And Minerva's chess set? All in order?"

"Yes."

"Your potions table?"

"Yes. You know you will lead him directly to Hogwarts if your suspicion comes true."

Dumbledore slowly tapped one long finger on the polished wooden surface of his desk. The only sound in the room was the soft snoring of the portraits at the walls, the whirring and puffing of the delicate silver instruments on their spindle-legged tables and Fawkes trilling some soft notes from where he sat on his perch.

"I do," he answered finally. "But Tom was never able to penetrate the castle's defences in the past. I don't have reason to believe he will succeed now."

If Snape felt uncomfortable with this casual address of a wizard who had terrorised the British wizard community for more than a decade _AND_ had been his former master it did not show in his voice.

"Gringotts has never been violated too."

"True. Nevertheless, Nicolas and I are resolved to keep the Stone under closer observation from now on. And that would hardly be possible if it was to stay in its vault at the bank."

Snape opened his mouth and shut it again. For several seconds he just continued to glare at the older man and then turned his head away and looked at a high, wooden frame on two clawed feet, big enough to hold a life-sized portrait and standing with its plain back turned to the room.

"What's that?"

Dumbledore stilled the movement of his hand and sighed inwardly.

The past ten years - or almost ten years - had turned out every bit the struggle he had expected them to be. Right from the moment he had taken the younger wizard into his staff after the hearing in front of the Wizengamot it had been clear that any outside sign of obedience or respect would be nothing more than a thin veil over the irrational ire burning sometimes so brightly in those hard, obsidian eyes. Severus was like a hot cauldron that did not care if it burned the friendly or the unfriendly hand.

He was a terrible teacher of course. True, those students who reached and survived his N.E.W.T. classes often started admittedly outstanding careers but unfortunately their number was far outstripped by those dissolving into tears under his sharp tongue. Impatient, harsh and cynical he was not the least inclined to make concessions to anyone who did not pay the demanded respect and dedication to his beloved potions. And beloved they were however violently he would have rejected the idea.

Like most teachers he tended to favour his own house and its Quidditch team more or less openly. It was a natural consequence of encouraging competition the way it had been done at Hogwarts from the very first day and Dumbledore had long accepted that even his staff was only human in the end. Or at least human enough to fall prey to human nature. Besides, the favouritism of one person alone never changed the balance of points that much, not while the other teachers where there to counteract the effects. Severus was just more ruthless in his actions or maybe more honest ... or arrogant because he knew his position was secure.

Still - annoying, nerve-wracking and even downright infuriating as Severus's wild and sometimes aimless resistance was, despite his many shortcomings and reckless temper ... Dumbledore knew it was exactly this constant provocation that had kept him alive, alert, had sharpened his mind and wits and had effectively saved him from the fatal mistake of slackening his vigilance as it happened so often in times of peace and to the best of men. Maybe it was unfair to use the other man that way. Maybe Severus too drew some strange kind of satisfaction from their verbal slaughter. Maybe it was simply his nature to fight against any restrictions placed on him even if he had accepted them willingly. Of all Occlumens Dumbledore had known in his long life Severus was the only one who built his mental walls with cold anger.

And he had - much to Dumbledore's surprise - turned out a good Head of Slytherin. Within a few years and even without many words or showing much compassion for his charges he had restored the house's crushed moral and reputation after Voldemort's downfall, had awakened the subdued fire of its students ambition once more to full blaze and led them to a truly amazing winning streak in the Hogwarts House Championship that was unheard-of in the annals of the school. But since Dumbledore had been most concerned about the prospect of a dishonoured Slytherin House producing Dark Wizards out of despair rather than believe he was perfectly satisfied with decking the Great Hall in green at any end-of-year feast if only _ONE_ witch or wizard graduating from this house had realized that hard work and dedication could bring the same recognition as shadow tactics and dark arts.

Dumbledore's eyes wandered to the delicate silver instruments decorating his office, whirring away on their spindle-legged tables and every now and then releasing tiny puffs of smoke.

It was amazing how picturesque they looked. Funny and curious, like children's toys. But they were not. They had never been. Dark detectors had many forms and Sneakoscopes were but one of them. Although only the most accomplished witches and wizards would be able to recognize _THIS_ special arrangement for what it was. Even fewer who would be able to guess its sole purpose or comprehend the gravity of the change in its behaviour that had taken place only a short month ago. But he knew. He understood. And this warning in combination with the alarming, yet frustratingly vague rumours that had reached his ears out of the dense forests of Albania had persuaded him to make up his mind and contact his old friend Nicolas Flamel.

"It's my own humble addition to our little obstacle course to protect the Stone," Dumbledore finally answered Snape's question. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Unfortunately it still needs a good deal of adjustment so I very likely will not be able to fix it until after Christmas. I will have it moved to one of the empty classrooms in the meantime."

"I see." Snape considered the frame with renewed interest. Its edges glittered golden in a late ray of sunlight.

Dumbledore looked at the piece of parchment covered with Professor McGonagall's impeccable handwriting that was lying in front of him.

"There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, Severus."

Snape gave him a guarded look from behind the greasy curtain of his hair.

Dumbledore ran one finger along the neat column in green ink. "I think there's no need to point out that we will have a ... rather interesting collection of new first-years this autumn."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly but his only answer was to lower his chin a bit more so that his face was nearly completely hidden behind the black strands. Dumbledore looked back down on the list.

"There will be a bit more than the average number of Muggle-born but Flitwick was quite pleased with his visits this time. And naturally several children coming from mixed marriages." He carefully refrained from looking up again. "Then really a good deal of the old pure-blood family names ... Susan Bones, for example, I just talked to her grandmother the other day. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle ... MacDougal ... and of course Draco Malfoy. By the way, how is your acquaintance with the Malfoy's doing these days?"

Fawkes quietly sung a pearly little melody. The portraits were still snoring and breathing with perfect ease. Snape's unreadable gaze rested on the piece of parchment with the names then he lifted it slowly.

"We correspond. As usual."

"So." Dumbledore clasped his hands loosely. "I imagine Lucius Malfoy would be very pleased to hear of his son's progress from you. And if young Mr Malfoy's reports would indicate your ... special assistance with it he might find it even more pleasing."

"Are you suggesting I should favour Draco Malfoy?" Snape's black eyes were glittering strangely.

"I am suggesting that staying on good terms with Mr Malfoy would be ... convenient."

"Of course." Just the barest hint of irony tinged Snape's silky voice.

"Of course," repeated Dumbledore softly. He looked back down. "We will have another Weasley this year."

Snape produced a short sound that seemed to be a cross between a snort and a groan.

"Well, I guess he cannot be worse than the twins." Dumbledore frowned at the list with a slightly doubtful expression. "Although I must admit that they can be a _BIT_ trying sometimes. Professor Kettleburn was almost hysterical that one occasion never seen him like that ... anyway, the rest was not that bad. Young Percy is rather uncomplicated and Bill made an excellent Head Boy ... and after this year, there's only the girl left and she should be the smallest problem."

This time the sound Snape produced was definitely a snort. Dumbledore cleared his throat and once more traced the list of names with his finger. It came to rest beside a certain line. There was no difference in the neat green letters. No sign of their importance, of the things that could have been. Although no one knew that outside this room. Slowly his steady gaze wandered further down and stopped at a second name, written as evenly as all the rest. He had always admired Minerva's self-control.

"And then," Dumbledore said calmly, soberly, "there will be Harry Potter ... and Neville Longbottom."

The humming of the instruments was the only sound disturbing the silence in the large office. Fawkes had stilled on his perch. The portraits were no longer snoring.

Dumbledore looked at his Potions master over the rim of his half-moon spectacles and wondered not for the first time how one could hate one boy so much for what he _WAS_ by some strange twist of fate while hating the other just as fiercely for what he was_ NOT_ for the same reason. But now was not the time to touch this old argument.

"You know that the debt you owed to James Potter for saving your life was never repaid."

Snape's dark eyes turned slowly his direction. A terrible, a frightening fire burning deep within them.

"And I'm sure I need not mention the delicacy of the circumstances we'll find ourselves in this year."

Still the Potions master said nothing just looked at the older wizard.

"Earlier you pointed out - very correctly - that the mere presence of the Philosopher's Stone will draw much unwanted attention. Dangerous attention. Especially for the boy. But much as I despise having them both here at the same time, the prospect of the Stone falling in the wrong hands is much more terrible."

Snape's lips were only a thin line.

"Severus."

"Oh, all right! All _RIGHT_!" barked Snape. "I will look after the brat! There, are you satisfied?"

"Perfectly, yes, thank you." Dumbledore was very careful to keep his face neutral.

"But after this year the debt will be over and done with, do you understand?"

"I don't think anyone could ask more."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

For a moment they sat in silence. Then Snape suddenly pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"And what do I do if it _IS_ the Dark Lord who is after the Stone?"

Dumbledore considered the younger wizard calmly.

"Then you will _STAY AWAY_ no matter the circumstances and contact me at once. As long as you do not meet him face to face you'll always have a loophole left. Here -" He reached into a drawer and took out a small rectangular card and pushed it across the desk. "- touch it with your wand and I will instantly know where you are and come to that very spot as fast as I can."

Snape picked up the card and stared down at a tiny picture-Dumbledore who gave him a conspiratorial wink. A strange look passed across his sallow features. "A Chocolate Frog card."

"Yes." Dumbledore smiled. "Not the usual way of contact, I know, but drawing much less attention."

Snape only grunted and shoved the card in a pocket. "Anything else?"

"Just one thing. I would appreciate it if you left Neville alone."

A dangerous light shone briefly in Snape's dark eyes. "Is that an order?"

Dumbledore returned his gaze for a long moment. "No."

"Good." Snape stood with threatening elegance. "If that was all now..."

"I think so." Dumbledore calmly put the list aside and reached for another piece of parchment. "Would you please tell Minerva I'd like to see her as soon as possible?"

"Of course. Headmaster." Snape turned and strode towards the door but stopped when his eye once more fell on the large frame. He hesitated but then his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back. "Headmaster?"

"Yes?"

"May I?"

Dumbledore lifted his head, looked at Snape then his gaze flickered towards the wooden frame and back again. His blue eyes were unreadable. Finally he nodded. "Sure."

Snape's brows knitted in sudden distrust. He shot the other man a suspicious glance, touched instinctively the pocket with his wand and then walked a careful circle around the side of the frame. Dumbledore almost called him back. Almost.

When Snape had reached the other side of the frame he stopped just outside a direct line of sight and tilted his head lightly to get a look. His face froze. Three, four, five heartbeats he simply stared, eyes widened, moving up and down, left to right as he took in whatever he saw. Then he abruptly jerked his gaze away, his profile sharply outlined against one of the many windows overlooking the castle and the grounds. His shoulders heaved once, heaved twice. And with the same abruptness he whirled round, walked briskly to the door and wrenched it open. And stopped. Pale fingers still resting on the heavy brass handle, the other hand braced lightly against the smooth door-frame. Once more his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. His head was bent as if deep in thought. Then he turned slightly and looked back into the room. His voice was calm, businesslike, bar any emotion.

"You know, sometimes I really think I hate you, old man."

Then he was gone, closing the door with a small click that seemed to crack as loud as thunder in the still room.

Dumbledore exhaled slowly and quietly withdrew his hand from his wand. He was very aware of Fawkes's beady black eyes resting on him. Very aware that every single portrait along the walls was watching him intently. And for a moment he looked old indeed, weary, the burden of all the long years of his life carved deeply into his face.

"I know, Severus. I know. And one day I will use this hatred and I'm afraid of what I might do."

* * *

Meanwhile Snape was sweeping downstairs with billowing robes while the portraits in the corridors turned their heads and started whispering excitedly as soon as he had passed. But he did not care. He wanted to rage, storm, tear down the walls and blast them apart; wanted to pack up and leave the castle at once, abandon the choices of the past. Instead he found himself standing in front of an old, battered corner cupboard in the Potions classroom and pressing his palms against the rough, discoloured wood. And in the silence of the dungeons the faint, throbbing pull of the book he knew hidden inside was like a second heartbeat pulsing through his body. A deep, strangled sob died in his throat.

The Mirror of Erised. Of course he had read about it, had heard of its ancient magic. Your heart's deepest desire. And the truth hurt. The truth hurt so much. Snape slowly closed his eyes and the first tear of more than fifteen years slid silently down his cheek.

Lily. He had seen Lily. Not the girl he had known but the matured woman she would be now, radiating with life, a brilliant smile on her lips as she reached out and proudly ruffled the unruly dark hair of a skinny, bespectacled boy standing at her side. Her eyes, her entire face shining with happiness as she leaned back into the loving arms of her husband, James Potter.


	7. Free and Not

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Snape said in OotP that he had been teaching at Hogwarts for fourteen years and so most fans seem to have concluded that he got his position BEFORE Voldemort's downfall the autumn after Harry's first birthday. However, for the sake of this story I have taken a slightly different approach and assumed that he got employed shortly AFTER Lily and James Potter's death. Since Umbridge questioned him in October it would still be almost fourteen years, close enough to justify his answer. Thank you to everybody who took the time and reviewed this story so far - it's always great to have some feedback.

Time frame: Not long after Lily and James Potter's death and Voldemort's disappearance. Harry is one year old.

* * *

**- Late November, London **

It was normally a very quiet little street. In the very heart of London but too far away from any famous attraction, the buildings old but not old enough to draw tourists, a pub with tinted windows but not the least fashionable and only known to those living in close neighbourhood. The small offices on both sides - old-fashioned and lacking the now wanted space and elegance - changed their owners too frequently to allow any closer acquaintances. Nevertheless, the general air of neglect had still something oddly charming, the pavement was clean and no rubbish was carelessly left in dark corners. It was simply an ordinary, quiet little street somewhere in London where people minded their own business. Normally. But somehow times were all but normal these days.

It had all started the night of Halloween. The first astonishing sight had been flocks of owls coming and going busily in all directions and sometimes settling for a rest on the rooftops of the unimpressive medium-sized buildings. Sticking their heads together as if conversing secretly. Then there had been hurrying figures with long cloaks and pointed hats, always stepping in and out of the bright red telephone box standing somewhat forlorn in front of a blank wall. Curiously enough, they sometimes did not seem to come back out of the box or - even more irritating - if they did they seemed to have never stepped into it to begin with.

Once this strange traffic had started it continued the next day and the next night and even the following week. And whenever two of the cloaked figures met in the street there was hand-shaking, shoulder-clapping, excited whispers and even enthusiastic hugs and hopping around. The hugs had waned the longer November lasted. The faces of the figures had become more serious and grim. There could now be seen long rows of the strangers filing silently into the red telephone box, speaking only in hushed voices. When they came out again their expressions were often even graver than before, sometimes agitated, angry or satisfied, their speech hard and abrupt.

But the strangest thing about the whole business was that not one of the normal inhabitants of the little street seemed to find this in any way unusual or interesting. Yes, if asked they would have denied noticing anything out of the ordinary at all. People? Oh, yes, they had seen people but they had not looked funny. The telephone box? A nuisance because it had been out of order since the very first day but other than that there was nothing wrong with it. On the other hand ... if anybody _HAD_ seen or heard anything they would have forgotten it very soon. This was the visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic after all and the wizards who had put up the Muggle-wards in the quiet little street had done their job very thoroughly.

So no clerk, no landlord bothered to look up when one cold, bright November morning once more a whispering crowd of witches and wizards approached the telephone box and disappeared into it.

They were spectators, of course, coming to the trials which had started as soon as the first celebrations following the Dark Lord's disappearance had been over, and were held deep down in the lowest levels of the Ministry in front of the Wizengamot. Some of them came for the thrill of seeing imprisoned Death Eaters. Some because they felt it their duty. And some because they had lost relatives or friends in the long, silent horrors of He Who Must Not Be Named's invisible reign. But whatever their motives, in ONE respect they felt just like the rest of the wizarding community in Britain - as long as they did not hide a dark secret in their hearts: They rejoiced that the time of terror was over. They grieved for the loss of life it had taken to end it and especially for the death of that young couple in Godric's Hollow. The Potters had been liked by many. They were awed that a little boy had not only survived a killing curse but had at the same time broken the power of the feared Dark Lord. But only the silver-haired wizard who left the telephone box in the early afternoon was simply and deeply terrified.

Because the man who had once been known as Tom Riddle had only vanished and not died. And he could not explain it. Little Harry, yes, that he understood. It had never happened before and might never happen again but the ancient magic Lily Potter had wrought in her love and despair was still something logical, real and tangible, had left its traces in the stones of the ruin and in the very skin of her son. But although her sacrifice had done the unthinkable and deflected an _Avada Kedavra_, although it had repelled it and thrown it back on the dark wizard who had cast it ... Voldemort had not died. His body was destroyed, his soul had fled but still he was not dead. And _THIS_ scared Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore more than anything else he had ever encountered in his long life.

A fear no one would have thought possible hearing him now address the considerably younger, greasy-haired man of not more than twenty-two or twenty-three who had left the telephone box behind him.

"Well, Severus, that didn't go badly, now did it?"

Severus Snape, the greasy-haired young man, gave the older wizard a sour look. "You were not sitting on that chair."

"True enough. Nevertheless, I am pleased the Wizengamot cleared you so promptly of all charges." Especially after the fight he had had with Barty Crouch to keep the Aurors from performing _Priori Incantatem_ on the wand the younger wizard was just taking out of one of his pockets. But Dumbledore did not mention that.

Snape snorted. He ran his fingers along the smooth wood of the wand then held it in front of his eyes. His voice was still sharp and scathing. "They would have cleared a giant if the mighty Dumbledore had vouched for him."

Dumbledore only smiled mildly. "Yes, I am quite popular at the moment, am I not?"

He knew best it would not last. In a few months the first would start to remember that they had always considered him an old troublemaker and then things would speedily return back to normal. It had been just the same after the Grindelwald war. Although Grindelwald had been a hopeless amateur in comparison to Tom's fine web of lies, fear and favours. And calculated brutality.

Oh, yes, Albus Dumbledore remembered any single Muggle house he had entered in the past eleven years after the Death Eaters had been there and the Dark Mark was hanging over it. He remembered each single face of those men, women and children who had had nothing to do with the war that had ended their lives or taken their sanity. To the end of his life he would not forget the expression in their eyes - astonishment, fear and accusation because no one had been there to protect them, because _HE_ had not been there to protect them... Sometimes he could not sleep at night. Sometimes even the pensieve could not give him rest from his guilt. Because he _SHOULD_ have done more. _SHOULD_ have been able to do more. Instead he had seen his friends, his charges, die one by one inside the Order of the Phoenix and outside. Seen them die, disappear, vanish without a trace... Some of them had been so young. Innocent. Some he had seen growing up, mature, only to be cut down in the prime of life. Some had been old comrades from the past; wasted, all wasted because he had not been able to protect them. They had believed in him, trusted him and he had failed their trust. Sometimes he did not know how to live with this responsibility. And it was not over yet.

Slowly the Dumbledore's old eyes wandered back to the dark-haired young man at his side and for a moment he thought of another black-haired young man and his heart ached. He had never misjudged a person as badly as he had Sirius Black and never with more disastrous results. He had never thought the power of friendship could fail so completely. Not after he had been presented such an outstanding example of its strength and endurance a little more than a year ago when his angry companion had knocked so rudely at Hogwarts' gates and disturbed his evening tea.

Dumbledore silently shook his head as he watched Snape's fathomless black eyes checking his wand with almost obsessive intensity. So high, those inner walls, so smooth, so impenetrable, so heavy ... slowly but inevitably crushing the tortured soul inside underneath their weight. He stifled a sigh of pity. Did this young man have even the slightest idea what he had done to himself? Occlumency was considered an obscure branch of magic for a reason and the damage it could do if taken too far was terrible. And in this case it had definitely been taken too far. He very much doubted Severus had cried when he had heard of her death. He very much doubted he was still able to.

"I trust everything is in order?" Dumbledore asked calmly as Snape gave the wand a final wave.

"It seems so." Snape put the wand back in his pocket, pointedly avoiding looking at the other wizard. "Don't you have to go back down for the next trial?"

"Oh, I still have some minutes."

Silence fell between them. Snape stared up at the spotless blue sky as if angry at the brightness of the day or maybe the world in general. Dumbledore watched him quietly. Their breath formed little clouds in the cold, clear air.

"Where is the boy?" Snape asked suddenly.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "At a safe place."

His only answer was a derisive snort. Snape's thin lips became even thinner. Dumbledore followed his gaze up into the endless blue. When he spoke again his voice was soft.

"It was not Harry's fault."

Snape's head jerked round. "He was _BORN_!"

And that - thought Dumbledore to himself as he held the gaze of those burning, obsidian eyes - was unfortunately true. Harry had been born. That had been enough. That and another man's decision based on a half-heard prophecy and prejudices, the decision for the half-blood and not the pure, the decision for the resounding name of Potter and not the quieter reputation of Longbottom. Chance. Coincidence. Fate. Nothing more. And nothing less.

"Have you already decided what you will do now that you are free?"

The fire in Snape's eyes wilted for a moment and something else shone through. Maybe pain. Maybe defeat. Maybe something completely different. He lifted his left arm and turned it lightly that the black sleeve of his worn robe fell back and revealed pale, spotless skin then held his right, unmarked hand at the same height. A strange sarcastic smile played around his lips.

"Am I? Free?"

"For the moment? Yes, I guess so." Dumbledore's eyes were serious as they wandered from the vague, grey shadow that showed for a second on the white skin of Snape's forearm to the invisible burns marring the flesh of his right hand. "For the future..."

Snape snorted bitterly and dropped his arms. "I noticed you did not mention the Dark Mark during the trial. And the Aurors did not search for it. Keeping secrets again, _MASTER _Dumbledore?"

Any other time Dumbledore would have put the angry young man in his place for using such a tone on him. Any other time. But sometimes it was easier to have a target for your anger. Sometimes it was easier to lash out at anyone around you than to think of what could have been. It was just as well the outburst had not happened in front of the Wizengamot. The old wizard calmly crossed his arms.

"What use would it be to mention something that needs more skill and power than most wizards possess to discover it against the will of those who bear it in the first place, and that has nearly disappeared right now in the second? You did not answer my question, by the way."

"What I will do with my ... _FREEDOM_?" The younger wizard shrugged carelessly. "I don't know. They always look for good curse breakers in Knockturn Alley. I did it before, I can do it again. And besides, grandfather is not to suppose to live much longer with his illness and all. Now that I am cleared he has no legal reason to disinherit me although he might want to do it just because of that. The house is terrible but it is a roof over the head."

Dumbledore tried not to wince too obviously at this cold-hearted calculation. Not that he held any regard for the old Prince, for none of Snape's family in fact, considering but still... Snape's sardonic smile indicated that he had not been discreet enough.

"Why do you ask, Dumbledore? You've got a proposal for me?"

Dumbledore had regained his usual tranquil composure and nodded. "Indeed, yes, I have. You could come to Hogwarts. With me."

"As what?" The fire was back in Snape's eyes as he fairly spat the words. "As another gamekeeper? As caretaker like that Squib Filch? No, thank you!"

"As a teacher and Head of Slytherin house."

This time he had succeeded in taking the angry young man by surprise, Dumbledore could see that. Ten, twelve seconds Snape was only staring at him with an incredulous half-smile on his lips.

"You would trust _ME_ to give and take points?"

"Within reason, Severus," Dumbledore's voice held a soft warning, "within reason."

Snape continued to stare at him with an expression of bewilderment then he suddenly shook his head. "No. Why? Why are you offering this? I am useless now. I am branded a traitor now that the Wizengamot has cleared me. I can never go back as your spy and there is nothing else I am good for. So what are you playing at?"

"Do you really think so?" Dumbledore cocked one eyebrow. "What was the Dark Lord's last personal order for you before you were no longer allowed in his presence? As a punishment because you were not able to fulfil his request?"

Snape's dark eyes darted back and forth for a moment then fixed back on the older wizard's face.

"To secure a position as teacher at Hogwarts," he said slowly.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Exactly. The order was never taken back, or was it?"

Equally slowly Snape shook his head. "No..."

"So you had failed once but your master's orders remained the same even if he did no longer pay attention to you. Naturally you wanted to regain his approval and you were intelligent enough to see that his first goal was not the job at Hogwarts but rather to get someone close to me," Dumbledore spoke with pointed care. "Unfortunately you could not apply again after you were caught eavesdropping at my door; I would have been too suspicious considering _WHAT_ you had probably heard. You needed a different approach. And so..."

"... I offered my services as a spy," Snape concluded softly. A sly smile touched his lips. "I gained your trust by claiming to regret my decisions. I deceived you, an old trusting fool who believes in the good in people, and fed you with lies and useless information. Of course, _SOME_ of it had to be accurate to keep your interest but that was only a little sacrifice. The Order was never able to hurt our case considerably. And then - I had almost reached my goal and was about to inform the Dark Lord of my accomplishment - he disappeared."

Dumbledore nodded again, the smile on his lips mirroring that on the face of the younger man. "Suddenly you found yourself in a very unexpected position. Your master gone, your fellow Death Eaters scattered all over the country or imprisoned, your secrets revealed to the Ministry."

"Yes." Snape's eyes glittered. "But I had established my role well and anyway, there was no other choice but to stick to it now. And as I hoped you vouched for me in front of all the world and saved me from being send to Azkaban."

"And," Dumbledore finished still smiling, "as a reward and maybe to keep you close for further use, even offered you a position as teacher at Hogwarts. Not suspecting that I had brought a double-agent into the very heart of my inner circle." He once more drew up an eyebrow when he noticed Snape regarding him with a very peculiar look on his face. "What?"

"Why were you not sorted Slytherin?"

"Oh, the Sorting Hat considered it but I was able to persuade it otherwise. So it chose Gryffindor instead." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"To persuade it," Snape repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes. To persuade it." Dumbledore suddenly grew serious again. "We always have a choice, Severus. And it is those choices that show what we are. Or what we are not."

Snape looked away. Somewhere in the quiet little street a window rattled. Then a Muggle stepped out of one of the offices and walked down the street without giving them as much as a glance. The sound of his footsteps grew fainter and fainter until he rounded the corner and was gone.

"I want Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Snape abruptly.

"No."

"Why not? It is the position I was supposed to take."

"I do not think it wise." Dumbledore smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Besides, the last years we seemed to have problems to keep our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for more than four terms. I do not intend to take a risk. I have, however, looked up your old school records and noticed that you always received top grades in Potions."

Snape's expression was suddenly distant. "I did not brew since I left school."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd adjust quickly."

"And somehow I doubt Professor Slughorn would like giving up his post."

"But Professor Slughorn has resigned this August and rather suddenly I might add." Dumbledore met Snape's startled glance. "I'm not surprised you did not hear of it, it happened very shortly after that ugly incident in Newcastle. But what I was about to say... Theodore Furniculli only agreed to be a temporary replacement and only because of our long friendship. Changing a teacher in the middle of the year is not usual of course but I'm the headmaster. And he is a busy man and would be more than glad to hand things over."

_AND_ this arrangement would place Snape safely behind the wards protecting Hogwarts and therefore out of reach of his fellow Death Eaters ... who would soon be after the supposed traitor. But there was no need to point that out. No doubt the young wizard could see the advantages as well as the danger he was in. Probably better than Dumbledore himself, considering the thoughtful frown on his face.

"It would be advisable to ... smooth things over a bit in that regard," Dumbledore said quietly.

Snape nodded reluctantly. "My grandfather is still indebted to the Malfoys. I don't know for sure if Lucius has received the Mark but even if not... Considering his reputation in some circles rumours should reach the right ears anyway."

"A good idea," agreed Dumbledore after thinking for a second. "But you should take things slowly at the moment. There are investigations concerning young Mister Malfoy and I don't want to endanger your position in front of the Ministry. After all I am about to employ an ex-Death Eater at my school so I would like to keep things quiet around you for some time."

Something like unwilling respect shone briefly in Snape's eyes. "I understand."

"Very well."

Silence fell as the two wizards looked at each other, both not entirely sure what they had just gotten themselves into. And as Dumbledore considered the younger man he was almost painfully aware of the unspoken questions standing between them. Questions he would never ask.

_Do you know what happened to Caradoc Dearborn? Where you there when Gideon and his brother died? Did you laugh when they tortured that Muggle family in Cambridge? What would have happened if the Aurors had performed Priori Incantatem_ _on your wand? _

Then something chimed softly in Dumbledore's pocket. Drawing out his watch he studied it for a moment before putting it away again. He met Snape's dark eyes.

"I must go. I will expect you at Hogwarts, then, this evening whenever it suits you. The house elves will be informed of your coming."

Snape silently inclined his head. And just as silently he turned and strode purposefully down the quiet little street, his winter cloak billowing softly in a fresh breeze.

Dumbledore watched him go, a dark spot in bright daylight, and inhaled deeply before turning himself and stepping back into the telephone box. His strong, old hands rested lightly on top of the phone as the box slowly sank into the ground and the shadows crept over him.

No, it was not over yet. But next time he would be prepared. He would. Be. Prepared.


	8. Bonds that Tie

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended. The prophecy mentioned in this chapter is taken from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" by J. K. Rowling and not mine.

Time frame: Short after Harry's birth.

* * *

**- Late August, early evening, a worn little room somewhere in England **

_Dear Severus, _

_I know I should have written this letter a long time ago but I was always too cowardly, too afraid of your reaction. I guess I know your temper too well. But today I can no longer be silent. Oh, Severus, I'm a mother! Yesterday I gave birth to the most wonderful, healthy little boy in this world and we named him Harry. You cannot imagine my happiness. He is so tiny, so beautiful with his little red face and fists. How I wish you could be here right now. How I wish you could be here and see him and share my joy, it is the only thing missing to make my happiness complete. Yes, I miss you, Severus. I know I hurt you and you cannot imagine how much I regret it every day of my life but I miss you so much. I miss talking to you, gossiping with you, brewing and experimenting with you and I miss your laugh. Can you not finally forgive me? Can you not be my friend again? How I hope you have not crumpled up this letter by now and continue reading instead. As I said, I know your temper well. Severus, James wanted to tell me about that night in our sixth year but I refused to listen. I am sure you know what night I mean and please believe me if I tell you that whatever happened then is weighing heavily on his conscience. But when this story will be told it will be you I will listen to. It will be your side I will hear and no other. And if it is as bad as I fear it was then I will have some VERY chosen words for my husband or anybody else involved. You know I will. Severus, I know you think I betrayed you but in a way I was betrayed by my own heart. As I tried to tell you (not very skilful, I fear) I did not choose to fall in love. It just happened somehow. But I never ever wanted to hurt you. Please, Severus, please answer to this letter. I can not stand the silence any longer. These are dark times and I fear for you. I fear for all of us. We were so close once. Too close to repeat the mistakes of the past. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Do you remember? Do you? I hope you are safe wherever you are and that you will at least think about the things I just said. I don't know when these lines will reach you but I told Polly (my owl) not to come back until she delivered them. I hope it will be soon. _

_Lots of love, _

_Lily _

Severus Snape snorted and shook his head. This was so typically Lily. Ever the optimist. A moment he tapped the small roll of parchment in his left palm then he flung it abruptly across the room so it hit the door and fell onto the worn floor. Flopping back against the headboard of the knobbly bed he bit his lips in anger.

Anger at her for writing this letter and unearthing a buried past. Old anger at that insufferable Potter who had charmed her and blinded her and always got what he wanted without doing anything. Anger at that darn light-footed barman of the Hog's Head who had caught him eavesdropping at Dumbledore's door and ruined his chances of a job at Hogwarts. Anger at the other Death Eater's of his circle for the Schadenfreude in their eyes as the Dark Lord had sent him away. Anger at this _STUPID_, unbearable room in this stupid, unbearable inn where he was forced to bide his time until his punishment was over. But most of all it was anger at himself, at that tiny little spot deep down in his heart that had warmed so traitorously at reading that it would be his side of the story with the werewolf she would listen to first.

Snape rolled off the bed and started pacing in the limited space between the tiny window and the door with dangerously graceful steps. The awkward twitch that had haunted his teenage years gone with the end of his last growth spurt at eighteen. It was a deep satisfaction that he now stood taller than most men although not as tall as some and the only inheritance of his father he really valued. Bracing his hands on the window sill he took a deep breath of sticky air of an early night, ignoring the less than pleasant smell of fish and chips invading his nostrils and the noise of people down in the street.

It could not be much longer now. The Dark Lord had been pleased when he brought him the prophecy, pleased enough to refrain from putting him under a Cruciatus curse for not getting the teacher position. That he had excluded him from his presence had been for show, for the rest of _THEM_ who now felt so superior. But they were wrong. Snape smiled darkly. They were wrong. Had not the Dark Lord even praised him for being so thoughtful and telling him the prophecy in secret? Oh, yes, they were wrong and he was right and when he was back _HE_ would smile behind his mask. This was far from the end. This was the beginning. And he didn't need anybodies help to make his way least of all Lily's.

Pushing off the window Snape once more strode across the room and picked up the small roll of parchment.

Answer to this letter. Lily must be out of her mind probably still in some sort of post-natal confusion or such. She used to be an intelligent girl a pity marriage seemed to have taken away her brain. Well, with a husband like Potter ... but she had chosen her destiny. Unfortunate she had chosen the wrong side in this fight too but what else could you expect from a Gryffindor. They might be accomplished or even outstanding witches or wizards but they lacked any sensibility when it came to real power.

Snape's eyes looked dreamily and for a moment a strange, almost beautiful smile played around the corner of his mouth.

Power. To feel it flow through your body, through your wand, bend to your will and your will alone, making you unassailable, putting the worries of the world far below you. To have access to the must valued secrets of the wizarding world, smooth pages of ancient volumes under your fingertips, the knowledge of generations and generations at your service and command. The Dark Arts, to fight mind against mind, ability against ability and to keep the upper hand by always being one step ahead _THAT_ was power; raw, pure, untamed power and he loved it. He craved it. And he would get it. The Dark Lord had promised.

Snape shook his head and came back out of his reverie then looked again down at the letter in his hand. Once Lily had understood all this or at least as long as it was about potions. She had always made kind of a fuss when she didn't agree with some of his spells. But now her opinion didn't matter any longer. He glanced at the date. First of August, three weeks, no wonder the owl had looked thoroughly harassed... The first of August.

He stood frozen in the middle of the room.

If the letter had been written first of August then the boy had been born ... the last day in July or ... as the seventh month dies.

The letter dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

No. No, no, no, NO. Lily.

Severus swayed and barely caught himself against the wall then slowly sank to his knees. Pressing one hand to his stomach in a vain attempt to fight the stab of pain that shot through him like a knife.

He would kill her. He would kill her and the boy and Potter too just for good measure, he simply knew he would, they stood no chance against the power of the Dark Lord... And he had been _PROUD_ to tell his master about the prophecy! _HE_ had told him, _HE_ had not some unknown person, not some coincidence or twist of fate, _HE_ had, so this was...

_My fault. _The dreaded sentence shattered the walls he had built so carefully around his memories. _This is my fault._ Severus doubled over, old emotions stinging in his throat, choking him. _MY fault!_ Again.

His hand slammed on the floor to break his fall and hit something stiff and round that gave way under his weight. The letter. And for a fleeting moment he heard Lily's voice again, whispering his name over the distance of time and space, calling him once more back from the dark abyss in his soul. Opening his eyes Severus stared at the dirty floorboards directly in front of his nose then slowly turned his head until he could see the flattened roll of parchment under his palm. Slytherin and Gryffindor. He did remember. Yes, he did. Drawing a shuddering breath, he curled his fingers around the mutilated little scroll and sat up.

He had to warn her. There was no question about that. And he had to do it now. Maybe it was not too late, maybe the birth had not been advertised in the Daily Prophet and the Dark Lord had not heard of it yet or had not decided his next step. Maybe there was still time to find her and... And do what?

Severus closed his eyes with a grimace and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Yes, and do what? Look her in the eye and tell her that he had submitted her life and the life of her son and family to the Dark Lord? No. No, his self-esteem would never allow that. Not because of the blame or the accusations or the anger; he deserved them and that storm would pass quickly as was her temper. But because of the hurt she would be trying to hide from him afterwards. Because he would not be able to bear the forgiveness he knew he would find in her green eyes.

But where could he go to if not Lily?

Potter? No. For nothing in the world would he grant him that triumph; not him, not Black, not Lupin or that joke Pettigrew. Besides, he would have to fight them first and while he would simply love to nail them against the next wall he did not have time for that. The Ministry? A bunch of incompetent idiots or traitors in the Dark Lord's pocket. Even if he happened to find an upright Auror he would probably be tied up and on his way to Azkaban before he had finished his third sentence. And the so called Order of the Phoenix? That was not more than a gathering of idealistic daydreamers with a tendency to be a nuisance for Death Eaters having some fun... Except _ONE_ man maybe. One man.

Severus hesitated. For a moment animosity fought against fear, anger against lack of time, old wounded pride against guilt. The letter burned his hand. Gritting his teeth he got to his feet, grabbed his wand and Disapparated.

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, main gate **

Cool night air of a mild northern summer caressed his face when he regained his vision and immediately the throbbing pull of the book washed over him, humming in his veins. Far away in the Forbidden Forest cried some hidden predator. Severus lowered his arms and looked up at the winged boars on top of the high pillars. Then his eyes wandered slowly past the strong gate, across the empty grounds, to find the huge, majestic shadow of the castle, hovering by the lake like a great patient animal. In the distance the nightly hunter cried again and then was silent.

The pale gravel of the road ground loudly under his feet as Severus reluctantly stepped forward and lifted his hand but stopped just before he could touch the cold iron bars of the gate. Only few lit windows twinkled like winking eyes in the dark front of the castle. Hogwarts black towers were outlined against the star-littered sky where a thin moon had just risen behind the surrounding mountains, dark and distant and unapproachable. All but one, crowned by a diadem of blazing lights.

Looking down abruptly Severus narrowed his eyes at the heavy chains that wound around the two wings of the gate, holding them together. His expression became thoughtful as he ran the tip of his wand along their length, careful not to make any physical contact with the enchanted metal. Once more he glanced up at the winged boars on top of the pillars. Their staring stone eyes seemed to watch him in stoic silence. Coming to a decision he slowly withdrew a few steps until he stood about six feet away then flicked his wand.

The small hex rebounded from the gate with a strange metallic _BANG_ and would have hit him straight in the chest if not for the silvery shield he had conjured immediately after releasing it. A long moment he stood and listened, keeping a watchful eye on the castle. No sound disturbed the silence. The windows still winked serenely. After half a minute Severus shrugged and started throwing one harmless little hex after the other against the protective spells on the gate which bounced off in various directions. Soon he became slightly irritated. Was everybody inside either asleep or completely incompetent? One would think they had noticed him by now and...

He felt the presence behind him but it was already too late: His arms and legs snapped together with irresistible force and he toppled forward, experiencing a shocked moment of cold fear what the impact would do to his nose or - much more important - his wand when his fall slowed abruptly. The next second his rigid body had started rotating in mid-air, lifting his stomach rather uncomfortably and finally he landed almost gently on his back. Unable to move a muscle except his eyes.

"I have to say, Mr Snape," said a cold, controlled voice with an underlying fury that made his hair stand on end, "that I already thought your manners rather regrettable the last time we met. I am even more disappointed to find out it wasn't an unfortunate exception. There is as bell, you know."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were blazing fire as he stepped into Severus's field of vision, wand in one hand, a teacup in the other, and suddenly he understood for the first time why so many people considered Hogwarts headmaster the most powerful wizard of modern times.

Concealed rage radiating from his every move Dumbledore first stowed the teacup somewhere in his wide flowing robes and then bent down to pluck the wand out of Severus's stiff fingers. His mouth under the gleaming white beard became thin as he brushed his fingertips lightly along the smooth wood. Putting the wand away too he raised his own and started waving it quickly but deliberately above his prisoner's body, starting by the toes and inching upwards, while all the time keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. He lingered a bit over the spot where Severus's left arm was pinned to his side then moved further up and finally rested the wand tip lightly against the immobile jaw before tapping it commandingly.

"Explain yourself."

Severus involuntarily drew a gasping breath as frozen muscles slackened abruptly then swallowed hastily.

"_One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_." The words seem to ring ominously in the nightly silence, an echo of the harsh, hoarse tone of the seer who had spoken them. "_Born to those who have thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies_." He stared up into Dumbledore's frighteningly blue eyes. "I know who the Dark Lord will go after."

For a long, long heartbeat Dumbledore's gaze bored into him and he steeled himself for the same pain he had felt the only time the Dark Lord had tried to break through his mental walls. Up to this day he did not know if he had succeeded for he had woken only hours later with a splitting headache and weak as a child. Up to this day he did not know that he had been inches from dying when Voldemort had stopped his assault. But the pain never came.

Then Dumbledore said calmly: "I think we better continue this conversation in a more private place."

Taking out the teacup again he rapped it with his wand and then crouched down and touched it lightly to his still rigid prisoner's chest. The next second Severus felt the familiar tug of a Portkey just behind his navel, the world turned upside down in a whirling storm wind and then the back of his head hit the floor again for the second time this evening, only considerably harder. Suppressing a groan he blinked, squinted against the sudden bright light and became abruptly aware of the excited muttering and whispering all around him. He lifted his head, gasped audibly in disbelieve and sat up with a jerk, staring up at the tall wizard who stood towering over him.

"_THIS_ you call private?"

Dumbledore regarded him with a cool look then glanced at the rows and rows of portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses along his office walls, all wide awake and talking among each other or even pointing with their fingers.

"The portraits in this office are bound to serve the Headmasters of Hogwarts. None of them is able to reveal anything they have witnessed in here without his or her leave." He strode over to his desk, set the teacup down on a tray with a white teapot with bright red dots on it then placed Severus's wand beside it. Turning back he once more considered his unexpected visitor with unreadable eyes. "But I can see you are not convinced. Very well. _Silencio Totalus!_"

Severus had never heard the spell pronounced like this nor ever seen such a complicated wand pattern accompanying it. And certainly he had never witnessed such an extraordinary and instantaneous effect. Still sitting on the floor he slowly turned his head and looked around the circular room.

The curious silvery instruments were still spinning and puffing serenely on their spindle-legged tables but there was no sound. The rows of portraits had not only stopped talking but even moving altogether, were immobile and lifeless like the Muggle photographs his father used to show him when he was young and his mother had always scoffed at.

He looked back at the enigmatic wizard in front of the enormous desk who still watched him with intense attention. Even as a child Severus had never asked "How did you do that?" no matter how much he had wanted to. At home he had soon known better than to ask questions likely to provoke a new argument between his parents, they had argued often enough as it was. At Hogwarts he had first been too shy to acknowledge his ignorance, then too careful to admit his interest and finally too proud to take advice in front of others. But darn it, sometimes it was really hard. He stood up.

"So," Dumbledore finally broke the unnatural silence, his voice still calm and controlled. "You did hear the prophecy. Aberforth was not sure about the timing after he caught you."

"Yes, I did," answered Severus rather shortly. He did not like to think of that moment. The old goat had not only been amazingly light-footed but had had surprisingly strong hands too. The marks had shown for almost a week.

"And what exactly do you think you heard?" Dumbledore continued with dangerous softness.

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "I already told you what Trelawney said, although I would have never thought a true seer could be hiding under that ridiculous behaviour after seeing her downstairs. There's little room for interpretation in three short sentences, isn't there?"

For a heartbeat he thought he saw some kind of emotion flicker in Dumbledore's guarded eyes. Something that could have been relief ... or maybe satisfaction. But he quickly discarded it as imagination.

"Indeed." The great old wizard nodded solemnly. "You were there on the Dark Lord's command, were you not?"

"Yes."

"And of course, you told your master what you heard."

"Yes." Severus refused to look down although he felt a painful stab of guilt at admitting what he had been proud of only a day ago.

"I imagine Lord Voldemort was pleased."

"Yes." The word felt like ash in Severus's mouth and for once he did not even flinch at the spoken name.

"I see."

Dumbledore traced the edge of the desk he was leaning against absent-mindedly with one long finger and suddenly Severus couldn't stand it any longer. Anxiety made his tongue sharp.

"Stop beating about the bush, Dumbledore. You know exactly that the Dark Lord will go after James Potter's son as soon as he has heard of his birth if that did not already happen."

"Will he?" A white eyebrow rose calmly. "What makes you so sure about it since you obviously did not have this piece of information from your master himself?"

Severus snorted. "Oh, please. As the seventh month dies - the 31st July - it's pretty clear, isn't it?"

"Yes, one would think so, wouldn't one? Unfortunately two boys were born at the end of July."

"Two-?" Severus choked out, his head reeling with confusion and a sudden, terrible hope. "Who else?"

"You will understand that I by no means intend to tell you."

Severus didn't even notice the blunt insult. The wild, unexpected hope he had felt for one wonderful moment left him as quickly as it had come, leaving behind despair even deeper and more bottomless than what he had felt before. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

"No. No, whoever the other one is he will go after the Potter boy. I know it."

"And why?"

Severus threw back his head and his bark of laughter sounded shrill and hysterical in his own ears. "Because it would be a miracle if fate missed this opportunity to spit in my face!"

Silent reigned after his outburst. Dumbledore stood very still in front of the large desk, like a man afraid of driving a shy animal to a headless flight that might well cost its life. Severus did not notice it. He did not look at the other wizard. His hands shook visibly as he ran them through his greasy hair in an attempt to get a grip on his emotions.

"I must admit," Dumbledore said finally after long minutes, "that I have some problems believing you care so much for James and his family that you would go against the man you took as master to save them from death."

"You are right. I do not care about James Potter." Severus dropped his hands and lifted his gaze. "Neither do I care about his offspring."

Endless seconds old, experienced blue eyes met fathomless black ones. Then Severus slowly reached inside his robes and pulled out the letter. Pressing his lips together he held it out to the other man.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly at the mangled state the small roll of parchment was in but he made no comment. Unrolling the letter carefully, he straightened it as good as possible and read it first once and then a second time. He breathed slowly through his nose. Rolling the wrinkled parchment again to a tight scroll he turned it several times in his long, bony fingers before he placed it finally with excessive care on his desk and looked back around with startling abruptness.

"Are you in love with her?"

"What?" asked Severus confused then he suddenly understood and the initial shock was quickly followed by seething anger and not a little disgust. "_NO_!"

And for the first time this evening Dumbledore was absolutely and completely sure to have seen an honest display of emotions on that sallow face. He quickly lowered his eyes to hide his thoughts. So not romantic love but friendship. A motive just as strong but free of the dangerous bitterness unrequited love could cause all too easily. Of course, considering that Lily was Muggle-born a true Death Eater would have been just as offended at the idea of a possible physical involvement. And equally disgusted.

"I apologize," he said quietly. "But I am curious. Why did you wait so long to take action after you received this letter? And why did you come here and did not try to contact her directly? Or did you?"

"I only got it this very evening. The owl obviously had trouble finding me. And..." Severus hesitated and swallowed. But he had come that far now he would go the entire way. "And ... she mustn't know."

"She mustn't know - what?"

"This," whispered Severus and holding out his left arm he pulled up the sleeve and concentrated until he felt the familiar burning sensation as the Dark Mark grew visible. Looking anywhere but at the other wizard he only heard the faint rustle of robes as Dumbledore stepped closer and adjusted his glasses for a better look. Severus forced his voice to be calm and neutral as he continued.

"Only those who have sworn eternal loyalty to the Dark Lord are granted the Dark Mark on their skin. Only those have the right to call themselves Death Eaters. No one can see it except another of Lord Voldemort's true followers or the man or woman wearing it allows it. The Dark Lord can summon us to him through the Mark. When it burns black we are to appear before him immediately."

"An intriguing alteration of a basically simple spell, no doubt," commented Dumbledore evenly. "And of course I see the point in concealing it from anybody outside Voldemort's inner circle. I guess it would be too easy if we only had to pull up a sleeve to determine a person's true loyalty."

Severus looked up from adjusting his robes. Meeting the other man's eyes he gave a surprised little huff. "You noticed something. Earlier, outside, when you waved your wand over me."

"Yes, indeed I did." Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Or rather I sensed some kind of dark magic in that place but then I am an exceptionally accomplished wizard."

For once Severus felt not inclined to scowl at such open boasting.

"Well?" he asked after several moments of silence rather impatiently. "Will you not finally do something after all I told you?"

Dumbledore stopped tapping his lips and gave the younger man a mild look. "And what exactly do you expect me to do?"

A second Severus just stared at the older wizard as if he had gone mad.

"Warn her!" he finally demanded furiously. "They must hide, maybe even leave Britain completely and find a safe place on the continent. He will kill them on the spot if he ever gets his hands on them!"

"First of all, of course they have already moved to as safe a place as possible directly after little Harry's birth," Dumbledore responded still calmly but with a hint of reprimand in his voice, "And second am I very well aware of Voldemort's intentions. Unfortunately there is little I can do about that."

He held up a commanding hand to stop Severus who had already opened his mouth for a heated reply.

"Anyone running away from another is in a position of sever disadvantage. He will be forced to react to the other one's moves instead of dictating the order of events. He will have to place false tracks in the hope of throwing the other off his heels without a chance to determine which of his actions showed effect and which not. He will never know how close his enemy is until it is almost too late. He can never be sure if not someone has betrayed his recent hiding place to unfriendly ears. While the pursuer only needs time and patience to follow any turns his prey might be taking in his despair. In the end he _WILL_ be successful in finding them. Especially if he has as many people under his command - no matter if willingly or under the Imperius curse - as Voldemort."

Severus looked away. No matter how fervently he wanted to deny it - there was a lot of truth in the old man's words. Too much truth. The Dark Lord would be like a bloodhound on the scent of a wounded stag; wherever Lily and her family would turn to, it would never be far enough, never safe enough. Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix would not be able to protect them. How should they if they never knew where Death Eaters would appear next, burning down this house, murdering that family, gone most of the time before anyone could arrived on the scene, leaving only the Dark Mark hanging in the sky. And right then Severus saw the only possible solution.

"What," he asked slowly although he already knew the answer, "would a person on the run need to even the odds?"

"Information," Dumbledore said promptly, not the least surprised by the question. "About his pursuer's knowledge, his intentions, his next steps. Any of his actions even if they seem to have nothing to do with his search. A warning if he seems ready to strike or any of his followers."

Severus closed his eyes and chuckled mirthlessly, wondering a bit how on earth he had ended up in this spot. But the decision was already made. It had been made years ago, he just never knew it.

"All right," he said with forced calm. "All right. Yes, I will be your spy. This is what you have been working at the entire time, is it not? But yes, you will get your information. I am not allowed face to face with the Dark Lord at the moment because of my little mishap at the Hog's Head but I meet regularly with other Death Eater's of my group and there is always gossip although we are not supposed to communicate outside the circle we have been assigned to."

Dumbledore slowly stroked his beard while regarding the pale young man in front of him with a thoughtful look. And he neither missed the suppressed hatred in his impenetrable obsidian eyes nor the slight but visible tremble of fury that shook the slender form.

"I am in a pretty bad fix here, Mr Snape," he finally acknowledged almost conversationally. "I do want your services, yes. On the other hand I am not sure if I can trust you. You see, your mental walls are extraordinary and I find myself unable to decide if you are being truthful - or the world's best actor. Anything you said this evening could be exactly what you told me. But it could also be a very, very clever plot of your master to place a spy in my ranks. Oh, I am sure you were friends with Lily once and I do not doubt she still considers you as such. I'm just not sure if you do too. Or if her well-meant letter was simply too good an opportunity."

By the end of this little speech Severus was biting his lips so hard he tasted blood. He was nearly beside himself with self-righteous anger but at the same time once more unable to deny the prudence of Dumbledore's caution. He was a Death Eater. He had pledged his life and death to the Dark Lord. Fighting down his temper he took a harsh breath.

"How can I persuade you of my honesty?"

"Lower your walls."

"Never."

Deadly determination radiated off this one word and involuntarily Dumbledore wondered how Tom had reacted to such a flat refusal. Because it was no question that this young man would allow absolutely no one to use Legilimency on him. Considering his history it wasn't really a surprise. He shrugged with more carelessness than he felt.

"Then I don't see how we could reach an agreement."

"I could give you my word."

"That - I'm afraid - would not be enough under the current circumstances."

"And if I give you more than my word?"

Millions and millions of possibilities and considerations no one would ever know seemed to pass behind Dumbledore's unreadable eyes as they stood there and looked at each other. Then the great old wizard turned abruptly and strode to the large fireplace. Taking a pinch of Floo powder out of a box on the mantelpiece he threw it into the fire that instantly roared up green.

"Gideon! Would you please interrupt your search for a moment and step over?"

The flames roared up even higher and the next second the blurred figure of a man appeared in them, revolving very fast. The next second a short, plumb wizard with greying hair was climbing out of the fireplace.

"I don't know, Dumbledore," he grumbled while brushing soot off his robes, "I think I'll never understand Madam Pince's system in the Restricted Section. Every time I think I should find a book in one part I find it in the opposite direction." Then he noticed Severus and stopped short.

"Gideon, I must ask you to keep silent about anything you will witness in this room," Dumbledore said evenly, "Including and especially in front of any Order member. Even Fabian."

Gideon Prewett's eyebrows rose slightly but he nodded. "As you wish, Dumbledore."

"Very well." Dumbledore moved back across the room until he stood directly in front of Severus who had watched the exchange warily. Their eyes met and locked. Dumbledore's voice was still carefully controlled. "Will you please take out your wand, Gideon. Mr Snape here will make an Unbreakable Vow."

This time Prewett's brows nearly disappeared in his hairline. His intelligent eyes jumped quickly from the tall leader of the Order of the Phoenix to the angry looking young man with appalling greasy hair and back again. It spoke for his self-control that he swallowed any questions he undoubtedly had, drew his wand and walked over to stand to the side of the unequal pair.

"Kneel and clasp hands," he commanded quietly.

For a second nobody moved then Dumbledore and Severus got down almost in the same motion, an onlooker would not have been able to tell who bent his knee first. But they both knew and it was another thing that would not be forgotten. They clasped hands and the older Prewett brother could see the force of that grip, could see skin go white under pressing fingers. Still he refrained from saying anything, only positioned his wand on the joint limbs.

"Begin."

Severus's eyes narrowed slightly as he held and answered Dumbledore's hard gaze. The older wizard breathed in.

"Will you, Severus Snape, swear that everything you have told and will ever tell me about the Dark Lord was and will be the truth?"

"I will."

A thin line of flame shot from Gideon's wand and drew a fiery circle around their clasped hands.

"And will you fight the Dark Lord and his goals and his followers, with all your ability and strength until he is utterly vanquished?"

"I will."

A second line of flame joint the first, burning brightly on their skin.

"And will you follow my orders in anything concerning the Dark Lord anytime and anywhere up to my dying day and beyond?"

For a moment Dumbledore thought he had gone too far. The obsidian eyes were suddenly ablaze with unveiled fury and hatred. He could feel the grip of the pale fingers tighten with crushing force, making their hands shake as if in fever, and fully expected to have his hand flung away the next second, the spell broken. But then the fire died in Severus's eyes.

"I will," he whispered tonelessly and a third line of fire interlinked with the others, forming a heavy, shining chain around their hands.

"The Vow is completed," Gideon finally broke the silence that had fallen like a suffocating blanket.

Severus immediately stood or rather jumped up, wrenching his hand free off Dumbledore's hold, and turned away, walked away, it was the only thing he could do other than lunge for his wand. Drawing deep irregular breaths he finally gained enough control over his flaring temper to turn back to the room.

Dumbledore stood at his desk as if nothing had happened, watching him with guarded eyes. He once more balanced the teacup on his hand. Prewett had stepped aside, his eyes moving warily back and forth between them.

"It will not be safe for you to come here too often," Dumbledore observed matter-of-factly. "I will meet you in the Forbidden Forest behind the gamekeeper's hut just outside the wards three days from now on. Then we will settle a way of contact."

Severus only nodded, not trusting his own voice.

"This will take you back to the gate." Dumbledore handed him the teacup and then his wand. "On the count of three. One, two, three..."

Severus felt the tug of the Portkey and stumbled violently as his feet hit solid ground again. Three, four, five heartbeats he only stood there while fury rose like acid bile in his throat then he threw the cup with an incoherent cry against the next pillar where it shattered into a million pieces. Trapped! Trapped for the rest of his life, and by his own doing! The fire of his anger roared up like a wild flood, threatening to consume him, and for a moment he looked wildly around to find another target for his rage. Then he thought again of Lily, the last time he had seen her, hanging out of a window of the Hogwarts Express her long red hair streaming in the wind. Inhaling deep he slowly lifted his head, searching and finding the tower with the crown of light, one window now shadowed by a dark figure.

And over the distance Dumbledore answered his gaze. A faint rustle of robes made him turn his head.

"Do you really think this wise, Dumbledore?" Gideon's voice was soft.

Dumbledore did not answer, instead looked quietly back at the now empty spot of pale gravel in front of the gate.

"The Muggles have a saying, if Arthur is to be believed," the younger wizard continued after a few minutes, "something about holding a tiger by the tail. You do not dare let go but you do not dare hold on either. There is too much anger in this young man, Dumbledore. I've got no idea how you got him to make that vow but it certainly wasn't because he believes in our fight. And Voldemort's most loyal followers are ready to die for him. We will never be safe from betrayal."

Dumbledore was silent for so long that Gideon was almost sure he would never reply. Then Hogwarts Headmaster sighed almost inaudibly.

"Let me tell you a little tale, Gideon. When I allowed Remus Lupin to come to Hogwarts I considered it a good deed but realized the gravity of my mistake within the first two years. Voldemort's power grew quicker than I had thought and so did the influence of his followers. I am not talking about those cowards hiding behind a mask. I am talking about those showing their smiling faces openly in the Ministry or other important places. The Malfoys, Macnairs or Blacks except Sirius; pure-blood families with a long list of old alliances. Yes, I had exposed myself by admitting Remus but it was too late to change anything without raising unwanted questions. I could do nothing but wait and hope that the precautions we took would be enough. And then, in his sixth year, my worst fear came true: His secret was discovered and the student who found it out nearly killed in the process. Only James's timely action prevented complete disaster."

The silence was heavy when Dumbledore paused for a moment, gazing out into the darkness. He indicated a shake of the head.

"I should have expelled Sirius for sending this other student into danger. I should probably have expelled Remus for being the danger that he was. But I could not risk drawing attention to the incident. I could not risk being replaced by the governors and losing the Order this safe place. And most of all I could not risk Voldemort taking control of Hogwarts and exposing the student to his influence. And so I sacrificed justice for the greater good and forbade this student to talk about what had occurred ... although _forbade_ is not exactly the right expression here. I even considered Obliviating him but the boy was a surprisingly strong Occlumens already and I did not dare to cause possibly irreversible damage by breaking through his walls."

Slowly Dumbledore turned his head and met Gideon's wide eyes.

"Considering how many possible employers seem to know about Remus's handicap lately I guess Mr Snape has by now broken the spell I put him under. Nevertheless, I am not worried about his intentions. Although you are right, Gideon, the vow would not hold him if he chose to betray us. At the utmost it will give me a certain amount of control over him."

He turned further and looked across his still silent office, at his desk, at the mangled little scroll of parchment that was still lying there.

"No," he repeated softly, "the vow will not hold him. The bond that made him come to me tonight - despite his dislike, despite his just grudge, and despite the danger his action put him into ... the same bond that will ensure his loyalty ... was forged a long time ago."


	9. Over

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: Marauder era, end of their seventh year.

* * *

**- Hogsmeade train station **

It was utter chaos - just like every other year. Students of any age were squealing and shouting at the top of their lungs, trunks were heaved about and more than once bumped unceremoniously on the platform or into the sides of the long row of carriages behind the puffing scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express, the corridors to the compartments were hopelessly blocked, robes fluttered, hats were lost, magical pets broke loose and tried to escape their would-be owners... Yes, it was chaos and all simply loved it. A year had passed once more and the students left the halls of Hogwarts for summer holidays.

"Oy, I've found an empty compartment!" a voice called from somewhere in the crowded corridor towards the rear of the train, "As soon as I've thrown the firsties out, that is."

"Sirius!"

"Only joking, Lily." Sirius Black flashed the red-headed girl that had snapped at him an admittedly dashing smile as she struggled inside the compartment. "Here, let me levitate your trunk up in the rack."

"I can really levitate my own trunk, you know." Lily Evans sounded half amused, half exasperated as she watched her belongings float upwards through the air then turned when another young man with rather messy hair made a bumpy entrance through the narrow door. "James, we need to go to the prefect carriage."

"Ah, no, you can't mean that!" Sirius protested immediately, "You will miss The Look! School is over; let prefects of other years handle things."

Lily whirled with a sharp reply on her lips and James hastily stepped in.

"She's right, Sirius, we are still Head Girl and Boy until the train pulls into King's Cross Station." He dumped his trunk with a bang and took out his wand. "But I don't think it'll hurt if we have The Look first and then go join the others, right Lily?"

Thankfully the rest of their little circle, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, chose that moment for their appearance so Lily only nodded somewhat reluctantly while Sirius shrugged and the matter dropped. Sighing with relief James waved his wand and the trunk zoomed up into the luggage rack and settled as light as a feather. The last thing he needed was the two of them going at it again. Although Lily really made an effort to cope with Sirius's nonchalant ways since he had told her about the hellhole of a home the other boy had lived in till James had persuaded his parents to take him in as a second son. And Sirius really tried not to provoke her after he had had a rather loud heart-to-heart with him. After all, it was kind of difficult if one's best friend did not get along with the girl you intended to marry.

That last thought made James pause abruptly and once more mull it over in his head. The girl you intended to marry. He didn't know where that came from, in this sudden clarity anyway but somehow it sounded ... right. Good. Fabulous, actually, to tell the truth. By all means, he had, of course, known that she was THE ONE without any shadow of a doubt from the moment he had started regarding girls in general as more than a nuisance ... but he had never thought much further than that. Not that he had had much encouragement either, considering. But now... Turning his head to look at her - sorting through the things in her bulging bag only a few steps away, strands of long red hair playing around her face - James felt an unexpected surge of emotion. The girl you intended to marry. A smile started tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't care if it was a rather odd time and place for this kind of realisation. He didn't care if he was standing like a fool in the middle of a train compartment. He didn't care at all. Over there was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and he was going to ask her to become his wife before this train ride was over.

"Chocolate Frog, James?"

"What?" Blinking rather owlishly at the other boy then down into the basket with sweets Peter was holding out at him James shook his head no as much in answer as to clear it. "Thanks, Peter. But not now."

Stepping back to let his friend pass he collided with someone behind him. "Oh, sorry, Remus."

Lupin only nodded quietly and turned back to shifting his belongings and James suppressed a sigh of by now familiar regret. His good mood suddenly thoroughly subdued again. Ever since the incident last year the young werewolf had tended to draw back and keep more to himself, even openly avoided their company from time to time. Part of it was certainly because they no longer dared to roam the grounds during nights of the full moon - not with McGonagall watching them like a hawk - but James secretly feared that most of it had to do with a sense of betrayal the other probably still felt over the actions of his friends. In fact he sometimes seemed more comfortable being around Lily now that she had figured out his handicap than being with his roommates of seven years. And James had not the slightest idea what to do about it. He turned his head when he heard Peter's voice again, over by the window this time.

"Chocolate Frog, Lily?"

"What?" Much like James had before Lily looked up from her bag and into the small basket shoved under her nose. To him it seemed she froze for a second, a strange expression flickering across her suddenly drawn face. A sudden strain in her voice as she abruptly shook her head. "No. No, I don't like them."

Peter turned away with a shrug, helping himself, but James frowned somewhat confused. He was sure he had seen her devour that kind of sweets on more than one occasion in the past years. Confusion became concern when she seemed to stare blindly for a moment, her almond-shaped green eyes unusually dark, before abruptly facing the window and crossing her arms in a somewhat defiant gesture. Slipping past Sirius rummaging through Peter's basket he crossed the distance to her with three quick steps and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, everything all right, Lily?"

She tilted her bowed head slightly at his murmured question and he felt strands of red hair brush against his lips and cheek. Behind them Sirius and Peter argued about their respective collections of Chocolate Frog cards.

"Have you ever made a wrong decision for nothing but right reasons?"

James's eyebrows climbed upwards considerably although she could not see it. He took a moment to think this strange question over.

"Not that I remember," he answered finally. "Why?"

He felt her shoulder rise and fall with a deep sigh. Remus's calm voice made a suggestion that seemed to settle the argument behind them to anyone's satisfaction.

"Because I did." Lily leaned back into his touch, tilting her head a bit more so the flaming veil of hair fell across her face, hiding it. Her voice became even lower and he had to strain his ears to catch her next words. "I hurt someone, James. It wasn't my intention but I did it nevertheless and I let it go on far too long already, thinking it was for the best, waiting for an opportune moment I should have known would never come. It never does."

At a loss for words - something that did not happen often - James pulled her in a tight embrace. He had some difficulties picturing Lily hurting someone, however unintentionally, but he certainly would not belittle the deep regret in her voice by waving it off with a cheap remark. A shrill whistle from the scarlet steam engine at the front cut through the air.

"James?"

Doors banged shut all along the train, locking noisily.

"Yes?"

A puffing that grew steadily louder sounded from the front of the train and James imagined clouds of thick black smoke rising in the clear sky. The piercing whistle split the air a second time. Lily moved and turned slightly in his embrace.

"Do me a favour and excuse me in the prefect carriage after The Look, will you? Good reasons be damned, I will make things right today. I put it up long enough."

They swayed together as a violent shudder ran through the floor under their feet resulting in a sudden jerk. The carriages creaked and groaned as the Hogwarts Express started moving first slowly, hesitatingly then picked up speed as the train left the station, whistling one last time in farewell. Feet started pounding in the corridor.

"Anything," said James. And he meant it.

"Hurry up!" Sirius's hand landed on his back with unexpected force and involuntarily he winced. "Or the best places will be taken!"

Muttering something not very friendly under his breath James drew back his arms and started following his roommates to the door, sure that Lily was right behind him. Outside seventh-year students were hurrying towards the end of the train with billowing robes.

"What made you change, James?"

He stopped dead with his foot already on the threshold and turned back around, meeting her serious gaze where she still stood by the window. He cleared his throat somewhat uneasily. "Pardon?"

"What made you change?" Lily repeated slowly, regarding him as if she saw him for the very first time.

James did not like this close examination. He did not like this question either but stepped back into the compartment and slid the door shut, abruptly reducing the noise outside to a murmur.

"I don't know what you mean."

Too innocent, too casually, even in his own opinion. Lily exhaled somewhat impatiently and her voice became sharper.

"Don't play daft now, James. For six years you were nothing more than an annoying, brainless bully with a head too thick to go through a door who took pleasure in playing stupid pranks, disturbing lessons, hexing other students and prancing around like a peacock. As we both know I would not have gone out with you if it had been that or an immensely painful death and I was actually shocked and not a little angry at Dumbledore when I learned that you would be Head Boy. And absolutely convinced that working with you would simply be impossible. And then..." She paused and made a vague gesture with her hand that seemed to express all and nothing at the same time. "And then ... you were different. You _CARED_. You took our responsibility to be a good example seriously. You still have moments when I would like to slap you left and right but... You changed, James. Why?"

For a long minute the only sound audible were the stomping feet and muffled voices outside in the corridor and the creaking of the moving carriage. James felt his face burning from the rather interesting change of colours it had undergone during Lily's little speech and only hoped that by now it had settled somewhere between the beet-red and snow-white he was sure had been on display.

James Potter was not a man who did take kindly to having his faults listed and especially not by the woman he was utterly in love with. But. And this was a mighty big But. Unfortunately it wasn't the only one. Yet, even as he opened his mouth for an evasive answer he thought of one of Sirius's previous comments and shut it again. School _WAS_ over. The promise he had given Dumbledore, which had been _DEMANDED_ by the headmaster, would not been broken. And while Lily was the last person he wanted to tell of this ... in a strange way she was the only one with a right to know.

"It was ... a prank."

The words seemed to vibrate in the still air and James finally looked up again, not remembering lowering his eyes in the first place, stared out the window just past Lily's head. Much easier than meeting her gaze. Much easier than seeing her pass judgment. His voice sounded strangely rough in his own ears as he continued.

"Only that it wasn't a prank. A student could have died. I could have died. Remus sentenced to Azkaban or worse and Sirius at least expelled. And I realised for the first time..."

He had to stop when the memory of that dreadful night washed over him again and his throat constricted. The memory of things he had done. Of things he had felt. And of things he almost hadn't done. That memory was the worst.

"I..."

But he found he could not go on. He couldn't. He had learned some things that night. Especially some things about himself and it had not been pretty. _A bully_. _A troublemaker_. _A vain peacock_. _A coward when it counted_. He had been so close to being a coward. He had been so close to letting Snape die because he had feared facing the monster Remus became every month in his own human flesh, unable to transform in the small tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack. A slender finger to his lips made him open eyes he once more hadn't been aware of shutting.

"It's all right," Lily said softly, "I heard enough."

To his own surprise James shook his head and caught her hand. "But I want to tell you." And even more surprising this was true. And as if a dam had broken the words started spilling from his lips. "Look, it had all to do with Remus being a werewolf and going to the Shrieking Shack each full moon. Sirius -"

"No. James." Lily's firm voice cut him short. "I don't want to know this. I think I've got a pretty good idea of what happened. Guess it's reason enough for going through the roof."

The last sentence was added in such a low voice that James was almost sure he hadn't understood correctly especially since it didn't make any sense. But the next moment he forgot it anyway when Lily reached up and touched his cheek with her fingertips. Her eyes, her voice so serious.

"I'm glad you changed, James. I'm glad that somewhere hidden under that terrible behaviour was a respectable, honourable man I could fall in love with without being ashamed. I'm glad you grew up." Dropping her hand she turned away. "And I'm glad you stopped hexing people for the fun of it - even Severus Snape."

Because her back was to him she missed the extremely guilty look that swiftly crossed James's face. For his secret war with Snape had been anything but over only, well, more secret now. Surprisingly even the Slytherin had had more sense than to keep hexing him in front of the Head Girl. Something James was immensely grateful for since his own behaviour had had little to do with the responsibilities of a Head Boy. But now Lily's trust hurt somehow more than any curse his arch enemy had ever thrown at him. He swallowed hard.

"Uhm, Lily..."

"We should be going now." Lily spun so abruptly on her heel that he involuntarily took a step back, bumping into the door. A lopsided grin was on her lips. "Or we'll really miss The Look and then Sirius will be absolutely furious."

Snapping his mouth shut James half nodded, half shrugged and - because there was little else he could think of doing - pulled the door open to let her pass. He was too confused to form a decent thought anyway right now. There would be other opportunities for them to talk. Better opportunities. At least he hoped so. Following her down the corridor he hurried his steps after a quick glance at the landscape flying by. There was really not much time left.

At the entrance to the last carriage a nervous Peter was bouncing up and down on his toes, the corridor behind him blocked with an excitedly chattering crowd of seventh-years. All windows were open, letting the wind in, and Remus and Sirius had managed to occupy one of them, perching on the small batten that ran at knee level along the wall. They were gesturing madly, dragging them up too as soon as they had breathlessly squeezed through the throng.

"Where _HAVE_ you been?" Sirius hissed exaggeratedly then immediately shook his head with a grimace of disgust. "Or, no, better not tell me, I don't want to know!"

Craning her neck to look over the gathered students Lily reached past James and dealt him a rough blow to the arm.

"Ow! What about some help here, James?"

"Earned that one, mate," James murmured with a quick grin, following the direction of Lily's gaze to see what she was looking for. But just then a strange noise rose from the assembled students and prompted them to wriggle round and lean out of the window, squinting against the sharp wind.

A wooded slope flew by, fell away from the railway and then the rolling hills parted with unexpected suddenness, revealing the tall towers of Hogwarts Castle, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looming high over a treeless saddle in the woods. And the corridor erupted in a deafening cacophony of cheers and yells as anybody lurched forward, waving, hooting and shouting, underlined by a long, shrill whistle from the train.

"GOODBYE, OLD CASTLE, GOODBYE! NO MORE HOMEWORK! NO MORE DETENTION! POLISH YOUR FLOORS _YOURSELF_, FILCH! A KISS TO THE GIANT SQUID! THANK YOU! THANK YOU FOR THE GOOD TIME! THANK YOU, GOODBYE! GOODBYE! GOODBYE!"

A fleeting moment it seemed the sparkling rooftops and windows of Hogwarts itself were bidding a last goodbye to its former students. Then the next hill arched up its broad back and the castle was gone like a vision, a dream of seven glorious years, imprinted on their memory forever.

Impossibly the noise in the corridor grew even more as everybody drew back from the windows and started hugging one another or thumping heartily on each others backs and more than a few tears were shed secretly too as they embraced and laughed and screamed, celebrating their survival. James was practically dragged down and nearly smothered by a huge Hufflepuff, then did his best to return the favour to a wirily Ravenclaw girl, all house animosities forgotten in the rush of the moment... Ah, well, nearly, because coming up to a Slytherin seventh-year prefect they both paused briefly then shook hands a bit awkwardly before turning from each other quickly.

Somewhat sobered James managed to turn in the throng of bodies and suddenly noticed that Lily was still balancing on the small batten under the window, long red hair dancing wildly around her face as she was still leaning out as wide as possible. She seemed to be staring back in the direction of the castle, clutching the window frame with white knuckles.

"Lily?"

James struggled to keep his balance when the train sped into a long, wide curve. He pushed forward in a sudden feeling of dread, squeezed roughly past Peter and grabbed the back of her robes.

"Lily?"

At first he thought she still had not heard him but then her head came round in slow, unnatural jerks. The wind was lashing her face with the long strands of her hair and it had to hurt but she did not seem aware of it. Then he saw her eyes and his stomach plummeted right through the floor under his feet.

"Lily?" Barely a whisper now.

"I'm too late." He had to read the words from her pale lips and then she was at his chest, in his arms, crying out in anguish as she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm too late! Too late! Oh, I am such an idiot why did I wait that long? I should have known better, I should have known better!"

And all he could do was hold on tight, shocked by the disillusioned pain of her tears.

* * *

**- The saddle **

The last echo of the steam engine's whistle had long since died between the rolling hills, the last wisps of smoke long dissolved over the now empty railway track but still he stood there on the saddle, half hidden in the shadows of the first trees climbing the next hill. It was silent now. Silent except for the soft whisper of wind in green leaves, the small buzz of insects swarming in the summer sun. He did not listen.

He knew she had seen him, just like he had seen her, had know it from the way her hand had suddenly stopped waving in mid air, from the way her whole body had gone rigid all at once except for the flying hair that had danced in the wind. He almost regretted causing her this pain.

Following the empty rails lazily with his eyes until they disappeared from view he shifted one shoulder slightly.

Of course he had also recognised the head beside her - there was no mistaking _THAT_ unruly dark hair - and for a moment he again felt the so familiar bubble of anger rise inside of him before he let go of that emotion. He would give Potter one thing if nothing else. However violently they had pursued each other this year whenever they could dodge their teachers' attention what had not been that often ... there had been one rule they had never broken. Not in front of Lily. Never in front of Lily. He was surprise the Gryffindor had had enough sense for that.

Lowering sallow eyelids over black orbs he felt the pull of the book pulse through him. Surprisingly strong, even painfully insistent. It seemed he would have to be more careful with his spells in the future.

He knew he only had to turn a tiny bit for one last look at the castle where he had spent some of the worst and some of the best years of his life. But he didn't do it. That part of his life was over. Had been over the moment he had walked out of the dungeon classroom leaving her standing there with a cauldron of botched potion, staring after him in shock and confusion.

Once more he let go of any emotion that memory stirred as he would of a fluttering scarf and watched it drift away with detached disinterest. A heartbeat or two he felt dizziness wash over him, familiar by now, almost welcome but it passed. He was not concerned by this new development since he had closed the last gaps in his mental walls this year. It was little a price to pay.

He would spend the night in Hogsmeade, in the tiny little room where he had left his belongings and tomorrow use the Floo Network for a trip to Knockturn Alley. With a bit of luck he would be able to get that job as a curse breaker he had heard about. No one knew more about the Dark Arts than he did. And anything was better than returning to the house of his grandfather. And then, next weekend, he would follow Avery's invitation and meet this mysterious someone his fellow Slytherin had recommended so strongly. He looked forward to it.

Concentrating hard on his destination Severus Snape spun in a swirl of black robes and was gone.


	10. Ruined Potions

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: Marauder era, middle of their seventh year.

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry **

Skele-Gro in itself wasn't a difficult potion. What made it difficult was that one of its ingredients was a second potion which - in turn - based on a third that again contained two others ... not to mention that each required a special grade of maturity at the exact moment of application. So all in all you needed to brew a complete set of five potions, following a horribly strict timetable through them all, for one batch of the bone regenerator. Definitely not your usual project for a seventh-year pair exercise.

Lily Evans smiled to herself as she slipped silently through the door of the charms classroom and closed it carefully on Professor Flitwick's voice, still lecturing the rest of his students. A smile that was quite a bit self-satisfied.

She'd really love to know how Slughorn had managed to persuade the rest of the teachers to go along with this. He himself had been most reluctant at first but for some odd reason he had never been able to resist her cheek when she really wanted something from him ... even if her tongue ran away with her on more than one occasion. Of course, Severus's soft remark about how "one's students' success" gave "a fine display of a teacher's abilities" had helped immensely too. Sly Slytherin indeed.

Smile deepening Lily hurried through the empty corridor and down the main staircase. It was nice to be working with her secret friend so openly for a change. Just trust the old Slug to team up the two brightest students he had ever taught - his words, not hers - whenever coursework required it. Oh, not that the Room of Requirement wasn't fine but from time to time it felt good to interact without having to follow those stupid house rivalries Severus was so overly considerate of. Lily sighed inwardly as she reached the wide Entrance Hall and glanced towards the four great hourglasses. Maybe it was just as well their houses never had had Potions together in the past. Her best friend could be so _UNREASONABLE_ at times.

The air grew colder as she headed down the dimly lit flight of stairs to the dungeons and on through a gloomy corridor. Checking the time she hurried her steps. Only three minutes to go. Lily started jogging as the heavy wooden door to the Potions classroom finally came into view and, knowing it unoccupied at the moment, barged right in so that she was already halfway down the aisle between the tables until she noticed that it wasn't as empty as she had expected.

"Severus?"

Lily stopped abruptly and frowned confused at the black-clad figure standing by the back wall then involuntarily checked the time again.

"I- Did I make a mistake? I thought it was my turn to add the next ingredient?"

The hook-nosed Slytherin glanced briefly over his shoulder, his dark eyes expressionless like tinted glass, then turned back to staring at the big cauldron in front of him. The very silent big cauldron in front of him. A sinking feeling settled in Lily's stomach.

"Oh, no."

Dreading the worst she moved slowly down the rest of the room and winced inwardly when she was close enough to see that the fire under the cauldron was extinguished. Breathing a frustrated sigh she took the last steps and looked with dismay at what should have been a happily bubbling thin yellow broth but now resembled nearly dry reddish cement. Lily closed her eyes.

"You were too late with the salamander tongue."

Swallowing her disappointment quickly for her friend's sake - and her own, to be honest, Severus could be snappish like a hippogriff if annoyed about his own mistakes - she forced a half-hearted smile and tried to sound more encouraging.

"Ah, well, that could have happened to any of us. We knew it would be difficult and you had all the way from the greenhouses..."

"Oh, I was on time."

"... so it is not... What?"

Severus's softly spoken words had needed a moment to register but now Lily slowly turned her head until she was looking directly at his impassive profile.

"What did you just say?" There was a dangerous quiet in her voice.

The fathomless black eyes never left the cold cauldron. "I said that I was here right on time."

A second or two Lily's lips moved soundlessly while her gaze darted down at the cauldron, back to his calm, almost serene face, back to the cauldron and up again. Then anger burned a searing path up her chest.

"Are you telling me that you simply stood here and watched almost two weeks worth of work turn purple pulp?" Her enraged voice rose with every word until she was fairly screaming. "Severus, that set of potions was supposed to be _ONE-THIRD_ of our final school grade not to mention the extra credit it would have given us with the N.E.W.T. examiners!"

"You are going out with Potter this Hogsmeade weekend."

No cold shower could have chilled Lily more thoroughly than this flat statement. A moment she could not think, could not breath, could not imagine what to say or do. And while she still struggled to gather her wits Severus finally looked up and met her eyes. She almost shrank back from the thinly veiled anger directed at her.

"Severus... I... Let me explain."

He spun on his heel and stalked purposefully towards the door. Cold panic gripped her heart, made her cry out.

"Severus, he only asked me this morning! I know how much you hate each other but believe me that James is different this year! I had to work with him since school started and at first I couldn't believe it either but it is true! Severus, _WAIT_, damn it! Something must have happened last year, in the summer holidays, whenever, I don't know, but it changed him completely; he's no longer the bully we both despised all these years. He-"

"SHUT UP! _SHUT_! _UP_!" Severus screeched as he whirled round, face contorted in almost insane fury. "You know nothing! _NOTHING_!"

Over six years Lily had watched Severus rant and rave and blast things in fits of temper or even use some truly hideous curses. And while she had more than once feared _FOR_ him or his sanity she had never been afraid _OF_ him. Until now. She stepped back.

The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing as they stared at each other across the rows of tables. Lily's eyes round and wide in shock, Severus's ablaze with something too terrible to consider. Lily slowly shook her head, a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture of denial and the fire in Severus's eyes flickered. For a moment he opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, to throw, spit something into her face but instead he closed it again, pressed his lips tightly together. She could not read the expression in his eyes, could not understand why there should be helpless frustration underneath the obvious anger. The silence was suffocating. And then Severus turned without another word and left the classroom. Lily winced involuntarily as the door fell shut behind him with a painfully final, resounding boom.

Long seconds she just stood there and stared at the aged wood then she slowly tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, inhaled deeply and said a word that would have cost her house thirty points had any teacher heard it.

This was certainly not how she had wanted him to find out.

She didn't even consider running after him. Not that she _REALLY _believed he would hurt her, not on purpose, not seriously anyway, but she wouldn't put it past him to hex her up to the ceiling as long as he was in this state of mind. After all, this was the boy who had - rather literally - blown up the practical part of his precious Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. just to get back at James, risking to fail the subject completely. His outstanding theory papers had saved him in the end but ... well. Reason and Severus were two very different things when his temper got in the way and this whole mess was bad enough without anyone watching him attacking the Head Girl. No matter how much she might deserve it.

Groaning deeply Lily sat down on the nearest chair and put her head in her hands.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Why did this happen? Of all boys she could have fallen in love with ... and it had to be James Potter. Darn it, six years she could not stand the sight of him and now... Yet, there was no denying the little flutter in her stomach whenever they met, the way her heart warmed up whenever he gave her this shy little smile, so unlike his former impetuous grin that had repelled her so much... She didn't even know when it started, certainly not right away when they had been forced to cope with each other as Head Boy and Girl. No, at first her dislike had been a strong as ever but then ... somehow this affection, this feeling she still was hesitant to acknowledge as blossoming love had sneaked its way into her heart and turned her whole world upside down. But how on earth was she supposed to explain that to Severus?

Lily sighed and rubbed her temples. Besides, she knew Severus long enough to know that pressing him now would only lead to pushing him more firmly in the other direction. No, to go after him now would only mean to drive him further away and there was no telling what stupid things he might do then. Better to give him space to cool off, to let him work it out in his own time and wait for an opportune moment when he was calmer.

Sighing again Lily slowly got up and eyed the ugly mess of their ruined project down-heartedly. She was _NOT_ looking forward to breaking those news to Professor Slughorn. Or explain why it was better not to pair up her and Severus in the next couple of weeks. She could just imagine the disappointed quiver of the walrus-like moustache. Looking around for tools to get the botched potion out of the cauldron - she already knew that a Vanishing Spell would not take effect here - her gaze fell on a battered copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ sitting on the edge of the nearest table. Involuntarily she clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped.

"Oh, darn it. Oh, _DARN_ it."

He had left the book. He had left the book, their book, the book no one would notice except her and Severus because of the See-Me-Not he had placed on it after a rather nasty incident with one of his fellow Slytherins in their second year... The book that was them. Them.

Swallowing dryly Lily reached out and touched the worn cover almost reverently.

She didn't know exactly what fascinated her so much about Potions. Maybe she really was a dab hand at brewing like Slughorn so often exclaimed. Maybe it was simply because, had she not been a witch, she would probably have turned her attention to natural sciences like physics or chemistry. As she still did from time to time in her holidays, encouraged by her parents. Maybe it was because she actually considered _MAGIC_ a science and Potions its most demanding branch, seeing how one flick of a wand, one pronunciation of a word, one stir in the right or wrong direction decided over success or disaster. Although Severus was probably the only person who would and did agree with her on that theory. As for her friend... Severus might be obsessed with the Dark Arts but his love for Potions was silent yet even stronger.

Lifting and opening the book Lily smiled sadly as she ran her eyes over the heavily edited printed text, effortlessly deciphering Severus's cramped handwriting.

Yes, this book was them. Visible evidence of the many stolen hours they had spent secretly in the Room of Requirement, brewing and experimenting and arguing about the best way to achieve the ultimate, the perfect result. In retrospect it was kind of a miracle they had not killed each other or blown up the school with the risks they had taken. Although they had come very close some times.

Lily chuckled softly and flipped through the pages, smiling again fondly as she came across the Draught of Living Death. Ah, yes, she had found out about the Sopophorous Beans. True enough, it had been because she had lost her patience cutting up the shrivelled little things and accidentally crushed them by slamming down her dagger, cutting herself pretty badly in the process. But - as Severus had pointed out after saving the rest of the juice from her blood, taking care of her hand and experimenting a bit with different materials - it had been worth it.

Or rather, it had been more than worth it. In fact, the results of hundreds of little episodes like this filled these pages, whatever she or he or they had discovered alone or together, driven by their hunger for knowledge, delighted by sharing it with someone of the same mind. And then, of course, there were the spells.

Growing serious Lily slowly closed the book and tapped the cover with her fingertips. The spells.

It was strange. She had always been so used to Severus inventing little incantations, had even helped him with some - she had forgotten in how many possible or impossible positions she had hung in the air, cursing at the top of her lungs, while he had worked on _Levicorpus_ - had angrily objected against more - like _Sectumsempra_ ... that it had taken her quite a long time to realize how ... extraordinary that was. Even after a lifetime of learning less than one witch or wizard out of a hundred was able to create new spells and here was this surly, bad-tempered boy who had done it for fun since his second year at Hogwarts. Amazing. And somewhat frightening.

Because sometimes she understood too well what drove him to create some of his nastier little hexes or jinxes. Because sometimes she could almost understand what drove him to actually use them.

_You know nothing! Nothing! _

A frown crept on Lily's face as she remembered the words Severus had thrown at her just some minutes ago. She suddenly had the nagging feeling that she was missing something, something important but she simply didn't know what. And she didn't like it one bit. Because despite what he had shouted at her earlier the foundation of their friendship had always been _KNOWING_ things.

True, they might snap and snarl at each other at times but nevertheless they always talked. Well, she talked, Severus made cryptic remarks or sarcastic comments and she figured the meaning out. But they were always honest, sometimes shockingly so. For example, they never tried to hide that they didn't have the slightest regard for each other's other friends - in fact Severus normally referred to hers as a flock of brainless geese while she usually called his a bunch of future criminals. He left no opportunity to make fun of her liking being a teacher's favourite and she had no qualms needling him about his tendency to sulk in dark corners if he didn't get the attention he thought his due. They trusted each other in a way that was difficult to describe and impossible to explain ... or at least they once had.

She didn't know what had started it, this - this change in their friendship. Her growing affection for James she had kept a secret? The strangely _OFF_ feeling between her and Severus since she had become Head Girl and didn't have as much time as in the past? But now that she thought about it something else had been wrong before that, considering his foul mood at the end of last year. What was it that _HE_ was not telling her? Why had he left the book? Had he simply forgotten it because he had been so upset? Or...

No. Lily shied away from this train of thought with all her heart and soul. It was impossible. Severus would not give up their friendship no matter how angry he was. He would not give up Potions just to throw her out of his life. He had been upset; he had forgotten he had taken the book out of his bag and that was all. What left her with the question what to do with it now.

She could not leave it here in the open. No one would see it _CONSCIOUSLY_ for the spells protecting it, yet one could still knock it down by accident and discover it that way. But she couldn't take it with her either. She knew too well how he would interpret it as long as he was still so angry, knew he would only see it as an attempt to force him to talk to her again. Something he would never forgive her.

Looking round Lily finally made up her mind and walked over to an old, battered corner cupboard. Opening it she crouched down and carefully placed the book on the lowest shelf under some other spare textbooks then stood and slowly closed the door again, resting her hands against the rough, discoloured wood.

There. There was no way Severus wouldn't find it here, the call of the Here-I-Am spell - sealed by the simple sentence written at the bottom of the back cover claiming it as his possession - would lead him without fail. And here it would be safe until he retrieved it in due time.

Lily slowly stepped back and nodded to herself.

Yes, he would retrieve it; he just needed a little distance to calm down. He would come round, eventually. They would come round. They always did, didn't they?


	11. A Worst Memory

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: Marauder era, end of their fifth year.

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardr****y, the Room of Requirement **

Sometimes Occlumency alone wasn't enough.

Severus drew his eyebrows together in concentration as he carefully measured the required amount of aniseed, cinnamon and dried cockroaches out into the mortar, picked up the pestle and started crushing them to a fine powder. There was something soothing, hypnotic almost in the monotone turning of his wrist; some kind of reassuring stability in the hardness of the table against his hip and knee. The small crunching noise of the pestle and the low bubbling from the middle-sized cauldron behind him the only audible sounds. He shifted his stance, shoulders unconsciously hunched in the typical way of a teenager not yet sure what to make of his suddenly stretched and awkwardly long limbs, and briefly wiped his nose at his sleeve.

Light was dim in this form of the Room of Requirement the air almost cold - a nearly perfect imitation of the conditions in Hogwarts real Potions classroom down in the dungeons. Or, in fact, the conditions in any respectable Potions laboratory in the wizarding world since daylight or heat didn't sit well with some if not most of the more delicate ingredients used for brewing. Very similar to quite a lot of things used in Muggle pharmacies come to think of it and he wondered briefly if they used the same type of furniture too, with sturdy wooden panels on three sides of the tables to protect the legs of anyone sitting at them in case of an accident. He would not be surprised. Eager to serve the Room had not only provided the one he was currently working at from the wrong side but about a dozen scattered across the cold stone floor, always four loosely arranged around a rectangular empty space in the middle, perfect for bigger cauldrons. Heavy shelves and cupboards with tools and books and other things lined the whitewashed walls, completing the equipment. In here no sound from outside disturbed the serene silence and it was remarkably easy to forget that one actually was in a hustling, bustling school full of students and teachers and ghosts and nosy portraits. Finally satisfied with the result of his work Severus tapped the pestle a few times against the rim of the mortar then set the tool aside.

Running a pale bony finger across the text in the huge book next to him (thankfully the Room did not seem to know or care about age restrictions) he nodded to himself, grabbed a folded cloth from beside it as he turned away, and took the few steps to the gleaming cauldron on a tripod that stood in the middle of the surrounding tables. After a quick look at the low fire burning underneath he bent forward with narrowed eyes and closely examined colour and consistence of the softly simmering concoction inside. What he saw must have pleased him for he nodded a second time, took up a wooden spoon from a hook at one of the tripod's legs and carefully inserted is, stirring one time clockwise. Catching any drop that might fall off skilfully with a twist of his hand and the cloth he held in the other he inhaled deeply the full, fragrant smell suddenly filling the room, rolled its taste over his tongue like a gourmet would test the flavour of a particularly good wine. Drying the wooden spoon quickly Severus hung it back on its hook and turned swiftly to get the mortar. He stopped short when he found it already held out to him.

Black eyes flew up to meet startling green almond-shaped ones.

A long hard moment passed as Lily looked back in silence. Then Severus abruptly dropped his gaze again and took the small brass bowl from her hand and equally sharply he turned and walked back to the cauldron. Lily's eyes followed him without a word.

Throwing the cloth he still carried over his shoulder Severus shifted the mortar on his left palm and sprinkled a pinch of powder across the potion. Tiny pale spots appeared wherever it fell, lengthening to fine stripes since the liquid was still circling lazily. Taking up a second pinch between thump and forefinger Severus ignored the whisper of robes coming to his side. And as he continued applying the powder he too ignored how the red head he could not help seeing out of the corner of his eye came forward to sniff the air rising from the cauldron. It nodded a bit when the former fragrant smell changed, became harsher, with a burning tinge in it that was not yet unpleasant but close. At the fifth pinch of powder the potion suddenly lost all colour and turned transparent. Severus drew his arm back and cleaned his fingers at the cloth over his shoulder then dropped his hand. A long moment they both stared mutely at the clear liquid until Lily looked down and picked at her sleeve. Her voice was carefully neutral.

"I heard what happened at the lake after I left."

For a second Severus's long fingers clenched almost convulsively around the mortar before relaxing again. There was no emotion in his answer.

"Did you now."

"Yes. Did you tell a teacher?" When silence was her only answer Lily visibly gritted her teeth. "You didn't."

"I do not tell on other students." Severus whirled round and stalked back to the table.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Severus, this is ridiculous." Lily turned too but didn't follow him immediately. "Potter and Black are more than due for detention - preferably for the rest of the year!"

"I Do - Not - Tell on other students," Severus repeated, biting off every word. He set down the mortar and dropped the cloth beside it then reached for a jar with pickled rat tails.

"If you don't then I will."

"You will do no such thing!" Severus slammed the jar down hard and glared furiously back at her. "I fight my own fights! And I need neither the help of a teacher nor that of a Gryffindor for doing it!"

"Yes, _THAT_ much was obvious when you were having your mouth full of soap!" Lily scoffed scathingly.

Severus looked ready for breathing fire but instead jerked back to the table and wrenched the jar open. "They took me by surprise that's all. It certainly will never happen again."

"Oh, come on!" Lily rolled her eyes. "They are two against one. Three or four if you count Pettigrew and Lupin. And I didn't see any of your fine friends moving a finger. As usual."

"And I already explained a hundred times that in _MY_ house you fend for yourself and do not depend on others. It's weakness." Severus pulled out several tails and slapped them on a chopping board.

"Weakness." Lily made a disgusted face. "Boys! You are all mental!"

"Whatever," Severus snapped back. He started cutting up the tails with unnecessary energy.

Scowling Lily finally moved over to the table and stared gloomily at the large book.

"I still think you should tell a teacher. They've gone too far this time, you know that."

"NO! Damn it! Will you ever listen?" Severus abruptly hammered the knife into the chopping board. "I fight my own fights!"

"By blowing holes in the Great Hall?"

They stared at each other then Severus arched a brow and smiled unpleasantly.

"You might not be aware, yet, that it was officially a meeting of unfortunate circumstances as it can happen in the heat and stress of an examination ... especially the practical part of a Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL. Who would have thought the counter-jinx Potter was attempting right that moment would react _SO_ badly with mine when I accidentally mixed..."

"Don't you dare give me that crap!" Lily now looked positively livid. "You might have fooled the adults but we both know _EXACTLY_ you do not make that kind of mistake. Not in Defence Against the Dark Arts. You chose that spell on purpose and you could have killed someone for crying out loud!"

"With four accomplished examiners and one teacher in the same room? Not very likely."

"Reginald Ramsickle nearly had to spend the night in the hospital wing!"

"But actually he doesn't and if a student does not know when to duck by his fifth year he deserves no better anyway. A lesson _POTTER_ seems to have learned by heart - as I can assure you with some satisfaction." Severus's smile, if one would really use that term on his curling upper lip, was now downright ugly.

"Oh, yes, I can just imagine _HOW_ satisfied you were when he dived for cover!" Lily did nothing to hide her sarcasm. "What were you trying to prove with this whole thing - that you are truly insane? Well, congratulations, you succeeded. Most students will now give the_ Mad Slytherin_ a wide berth!"

"Good," said Severus and now he was no longer smiling.

Lily threw up her hands and stalked away to the next table, obviously considering giving it a good kick before returning again and glowering at the dark-haired boy. Much as she loathed admitting it but Severus's rather spectacular revenge could actually solve some things in the end ... although she honestly doubted he had been thinking of anything else than getting back at Potter at any cost when he entered the Great Hall. The teachers, unaware of what had happened after the theoretical part, might blame it on stress in an exam but the students would know better. From now on any of them would know what the _Greasy Git_ was capable of when pushed too far. Oh, not that she was naive enough to believe the harassing and hexing would stop completely. At least Potter and his friends were way too thick for that. Nor would Severus let their feud rest, sadly enough. But she was rather certain it would never cross that special line again, would never go to the same extend as it had at the lake. That was a good thing, in a way, the best she could have hoped for but the means by which this uneasy balance had been achieved did not sit well with her. Not at all. Lily took a deep breath that not exactly calmed her.

"Will you have to repeat the examination?"

"I don't know yet." Severus put the cut up rat tails into a small bowl and cleaned the board with a quick wave of his wand. Next he set to counting out sunflower seeds. "We'll see."

Lily snorted. "Well, don't come whining at my shoulder if you do."

"Oh, don't worry. I need your shoulder no more than I need your advice. And least of all about my underwear."

Lily flinched but Severus didn't give her even a chance to reply. His look was like a flashing dagger.

"Had your fun, didn't you? Laughing along with the rest when he hung me upside down, eh?"

"No!" Too quick, too guilty, she could see it in his eyes and hot blood shot in her cheeks before she could help it.

"You were!" Severus abruptly sent the sunflower seeds flying with a sweep of his hand, his face like thunder. "You were laughing!"

"I-I-I... No! I mean..." Realising she dug herself in only deeper - her lips _HAD_ twitched - Lily decided to plunge ahead. "Darn it, Severus, you wrote that spell because it's kind of funny! And if you wore a pair of trousers under your robes like the rest of us it wouldn't have been all that bad!"

"That is no proper attire for a wizard!"

"Not this old argument again, I'm sick of it!" Lily's patience snapped like an overstretched cord. "For heaven's sake, Severus, you can not forever live by the rules your mother put up she is _DEAD_--No!" She quickly held up her hands, shook her head, horrified. "Sorry! Oh, god, I'm sorry. I should not have said that."

"No," Severus pressed out through gritted teeth as he turned abruptly and practically stormed to the cauldron, fists clenched so violently the nails drew blood, "You should not have!"

Hiding her face in her hands Lily exhaled shakily then lifted it up to the ceiling. Not daring to look at his angrily hunched shoulders she settled for staring at a box with white powder sitting open at the edge of the table. Absent-mindedly she reached out and touched it then risked a quick glance. Severus was glaring at the potion, fists still clenched tightly enough to tremble. And suddenly she remembered how she had held on to these hands almost three years ago - had held on for dear life, his life, as if she could physically pull him back from that dark abyss in his soul. Sometimes she was not sure if she had succeeded. Lily chewed her lower lip.

"You used Sectumsempra on Potter," she said finally.

Severus started slightly and for the first time there was a trace of guilt visible in the rigid tension of his back. He made a move as if to look over his shoulder but never finished it, speaking to the cauldron in front of him instead.

"Only non-verbal." There was a defensive tone in his voice that had not been there before. "You know it is not very strong that way."

"You promised, Severus," Lily whispered, "You _PROMISED_ you would never use that curse."

"He used my own _SPELLS_ against me!" screamed Severus as he whirled round to face her, anger and hurt once more burning in his eyes.

"And you know exactly how to stop that, don't you?" Lily screamed right back. "The only thing you have to do is tell them that is was you who invented all those little hexes they are so fond of and they would not touch them with a pair of tongs! But nooo, you are too damn proud to see them used all over the school so you can glory in your own brilliance!"

"This is none of your business!"

Enraged Severus turned his back on her in a swirl of black robes ... and ran into the tripod. Potion splashed loudly as the cauldron tipped dangerously and he lunged forward with a strangled gasp, actually caught it - surprisingly enough - and jerked it back upright, causing the potion to slosh around even more. And a menacing sizzling sound suddenly filled the room. Severus paled and jumped back just as Lily got hold of the box on the table and emptied the white powder over him, the cauldron and the fire before throwing herself across the tabletop, dropping to the ground in a hail of breaking glass jars and rolling into the safety of the enclosed space. The mad sizzling sound continued for a few terrible seconds ... and died down.

Silence. Deep, deep silence.

Lily slowly cracked one eye open. The silence continued. She carefully lifted the upper elbow of the arms she had slung protectively around her head. Still the only sound she heard was her own frantic heartbeat. Swallowing nervously Lily finally opened both eyes and uncurled from her foetal position.

The smell of alcohol was overpowering. Shards of glass shimmered in puddles of liquid, potion ingredients were strewn all across the stone floor. Even the chopping board she had taken down with her. With her shoe she scraped a gap into the worst of it and crawled out of her hiding place. As she raised her head warily over the table Severus's was just appearing behind the one to her right, face and hair streaked white with powder. They exchanged an uncertain look.

Standing Severus inched slowly around the edge of his shelter and Lily followed his example until they were standing side by side, craning their necks to peer into the cauldron.

Powder covered the no longer gleaming metal like a layer of dust, sat on the now still and innocent surface of the potion, had spread over the tripod, the place where the fire had been, the floor, hovered even in the air. Lily slowly released the breath she was holding.

"Wow." Her voice quivered audibly. "That was close."

"Yeah." Severus was still staring somewhat stunned at the cauldron then glanced sideways at her. "Good reaction."

She managed a shaky smile. "Same to you."

A moment longer they stared at what could have been their final disaster then Lily cleared her throat with an effort and reached for her wand.

"Well, show me your hands."

Obediently Severus turned his palms up and Lily grimaced in sympathy at the sight of the angry blisters. She chanted a melodic incantation to mend the burnt flesh then added a quick cleaning spell that vanished most of the white powder from his clothes and skin but as usual did surprisingly little for his naturally greasy hair.

"Thanks." Severus experimentally flexed his healed fingers, eyes cast downward.

"You're welcome." Lily repeated the last spell on her own robes before busying herself with putting her wand away.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Severus kneaded his hands while Lily shuffled her feet, both looking anywhere but at each other. Awkward seconds ticked by. Then they abruptly walked in different directions and started cleaning up.

In all honesty, they didn't know if it were necessary. They had no idea what form the Room of Requirement took when not occupied or what happened to the potion equipment when it transformed for other needs. Nor had any of them ever entered and found things other than impeccably clean, orderly and fully stocked but ... well. Somehow not doing it felt impolite.

So they dumped the now harmless contents of the cauldron down the drain and Severus set to scrubbing it while Lily shooed a couple of brooms across the floor and carried scales and knives back to their cupboards. Disposing of the piles of dirt she neatly sidestepped the large book Severus sent onto its shelf with a flip of his wand before he started sorting the unharmed jars with ingredients into their wooden boxes. Lily transported the first two to the heavy storage cupboard where they were kept and then returned and stood behind Severus's right shoulder as he packed the last. It was all routine, done with the ease of long practice where words were neither necessary nor wanted and yet they were both unable to forget the painful difference for one second.

Lily's eyes followed the sure movement of Severus's hands as he arranged the last jars in the box then reached for the lid. The small clicking and tinkling of glass against glass the only sound in the oppressive silence.

"It hurt when you called me Mudblood today." She watched Severus's fingers still on the closed box at her quietly spoken words. "Because this time you meant it."

Whatever else might be the outcome of this day. _Mudblood_ ... _Snivellus_ ... never again would they use those cruel nicknames in jest, would never again ridicule their meaning with mocking irony. Their private joke had turned bitter. Because they had broken something today. Something innocent, something pure, had broken it with thoughtless words spoken in misdirected anger. A worst memory for both of them. Severus's hands suddenly came alive again, deftly securing the little bolt before picking up the box and carrying it to the cupboard. The space where he had stood suddenly cold and empty. Lily closed her eyes and felt like crying.

"Do you..."

Her head snapped up as Severus's voice trailed off and she saw that he had half turned and was now staring at a spot on the floor somewhere to her right; an unreadable expression on his face. He hesitated visibly, unconsciously cradling the box tighter to his chest, like a shield, and for a second his uneven teeth dug into his lower lip, a painfully uncertain gesture that clenched her heart. Then he snorted and shook his head.

"Do you still have some of those blasted Chocolate frogs?"

The smile that slowly spread across Lily's face was as brilliant as the sun although she had tears in her eyes as she reached into her pocket.

"Only one," she admitted softly, "We'd have to share."

Severus's mouth twitched slightly but his eyes and voice were serious as he finally finished his turn and looked at her.

"That's fine by me."


	12. Unforgivable

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: A heartfelt Thank You for your kind reviews and a word of WARNING for this chapter - matrimonial violence and other disturbing themes will be mentioned, please don't read if this upsets you.

Time frame: Marauder era, start of their third year.

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardr****y **

The first complete week of the new school year was over. Students had by now found the way to their classrooms at least once, gotten used to the new timetables, settled back into the routine that dictated life at Hogwarts most of the time. Friends one had not seen since spring had been greeted, news had been shared, summer holidays had been described in all detail. Teachers had had opportunity to despair of the now gaping holes in the already fleeting memories of their charges and once more shouldered the task of pounding some knowledge back into them. Portraits and ghosts either welcomed the renewed bustle of children from eleven to eighteen in the former silent corridors or complained heavily about it. House-elves were determined to be as efficient and invisible as the year before or the one before that or the one before that one and so on until time faded into legend. The castle itself was as silent and unperturbed as ever, bearing the changes of seasons and generations with stoic calm ... and if staircases tended to change more often in the first couple of weeks after summer holidays it was most probably coincidence.

Severus Snape shifted the large book in his arms and glanced indifferently out of a window as he walked down a long corridor on the seventh floor. The brilliant sunshine outside held no appeal to him and neither did the occasional squeal or screech echoing all the way up from the lake where the giant squid had a great time splashing excited students. Reaching the enormous tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy's attempt to train trolls for ballet the black-haired boy made sure he was really alone then performed the odd ritual that would open the Room of Requirement. As soon as the highly polished door had appeared he looked round once again, and stepped into the familiar dim light and cool air, eyes settling without surprise on the red-headed girl sitting cross-legged on one of the tables. Lily Evans cocked a brow without really looking.

"Hey, Snivellus."

"Mudblood."

Severus weaved his way through the tables until he reached the back wall. Sitting down he pulled the book in his lap and opened it deftly without another word. Lily didn't seem to mind though. Tongue between her teeth she concentrated on a jar filled with blue fire standing in front of her and started drawing tiny flaming balls out of it with little flicks of her wand. For some time the only audible sounds were those of softly turning pages and her quiet muttering.

"Aha!" Lily suddenly exclaimed in obvious triumph. "Severus, look quickly! I _TOLD_ Petunia I would be able to do this if I was allowed to do magic at home but she just wouldn't believe me."

Regarding the rough, blue but nevertheless recognisable model of the solar system rotating in front of her with mild disinterest Severus pursed his lips briefly and returned to his reading.

Completely undisturbed by his behaviour Lily guided the blue balls of fire back into the jar before hopping off the table and bouncing over. Flopping down beside him she heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"Oh, my dear sister can be such a _COW_..." Then she paused and sniffed, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Ugh. Severus, don't get me wrong but I hope that is not you."

"No." Without looking he turned a page. "It's the book. There was a dead Doxy behind it on the shelf and the smell has seeped into the parchment."

"Uh-huh."

Lily did not seem entirely convinced. She had never known anyone besides Severus who could be so ... oblivious to anything else when his mind was set on something. Including hunger, thirst, cold and (unfortunately) body hygiene. Then she shrugged mentally. Before she had first stumbled into the Room by accident and found herself at his wandpoint she had never known anybody who could draw his wand that fast either. So some things were better left alone. Bending forward she prodded at the book until Severus grumbled under his breath and hoisted it up and around so she could see the title. Her eyebrows drew together.

"_Mystery and Magic_," she read out loud, "_An Account Through the Ages by Wilbur Candlestick the Younger_. Where did you get _THAT_ from?"

"Grandfather's library." Severus settled the heavy thing back against his thighs.

Now Lily looked puzzled. "I thought you were not allowed to take your grandfather's books."

"I am not."

Snorting a bit at this flat reply Lily shook her head. "Well, it's your neck. Is it at least worth it?"

"It's terrible and the author is an idiot. But is has a rather long chapter about Occlumency."

"Occlu-what?"

"Occlumency."

Pause.

"And what _IS_ Occlumency?" Lily finally prompted when it became clear he did not intend to continue. It was a game they played fairly often and so she didn't bother looking for the amused twitch of his lips she naturally imagined to be there. She should have.

"The art of shielding your mind against Legilimency," Severus replied curtly. Lily groaned loudly and he had the grace to add: "Meaning the art to extract and correctly interpret feelings and memories of other people."

"Really?" Lily's interest was piqued. "You mean some wizards can actually read minds?"

"That would be a very Muggle interpretation of this complicated and subtle ability but all in all ... yes."

"That's interesting. And Occlumency is the counter-charm to this Le- Legi-whatever thing?"

Severus sighed and quietly rolled his eyes. "If learned correctly it enables you to close your mind against it by suppressing any emotions or memories the person using Legilimency could distinguish or interpret."

"Ah." Lily nodded a few times. "Well, I would like to try that mind-reading thing on Petunia one day or another, might be enlightening. You see, there was this paper model of the solar system they made at school and..."

And off she was, indulging in the favourite pastime of most children growing up with siblings no matter if older or younger: verbally abusing said siblings. Petunia's sins and outrageous lack of interest in all magical accomplishments of her younger sister soon led to an account of all summer excursions undertaken with her family followed by a rather detailed description of a visit at Madame Tussauds in London - where she had longed so much giving the other visitors a scare by making the wax figures move just a tiny bit but withstood temptation - and ended in a not entirely logical but heated complaint how unfair it was that under-age students were not allowed to do magic at home. After dwelling some time on the mischief the new puppy of her best Muggle friend was coming up with - including a resigned confession that her roommates at Hogwarts simply were not able to appreciate how cute non-magical pets could be - she last recounted how fearless her father had braved the weirdness of Diagon Alley as they went and bought her new books and other school stuff. Dropping her head back against the wall she then considered the ceiling in silent contemplation for some time and finally sighed contently.

"And how was your summer?"

"Pretty boring," Severus, who had continued reading through all her ramblings, shrugged dismissively. "Except mother finally managed to kill father with an Unforgivable and was shipped off to Azkaban. Nobody expects her to last long. I live with grandfather now."

There was a thin crack in the ceiling, about six or seven inches long, black against the whitewashed surface. As if one was really in the dungeons with tons and tons of stones above. Amazing. Lily slowly rolled her head until she could see Severus's dark hair out of the corner of her eye.

"What?"

"Yeah, grandfather had to pay the Malfoys a veritable fortune to keep it under the hat. Put him in a horrible temper. He hates being indebted."

Lily frowned slightly then pushed off the wall and turned over on her knees so she was facing him. A moment she uncertainly rubbed her hands across her thighs. She would never deny that he sometimes had a nasty kind of humour but... She tilted her head.

"Severus?"

He calmly turned a page. "It was lucky the evidence was so clear though. Otherwise even their influence would not have stopped the _Prophet_ and other magazines from making a big deal of it. But as it was they quickly lost interest anyway."

A chill ran down Lily's spine that had nothing to do with the actual temperature. She licked her suddenly parched lips.

"Severus ... please stop."

He continued as if he had not heard her; in the same flat, monotonous voice bare any emotion.

"Dumbledore has been informed, of course. Summoned me to his office first day. Held a nice little speech how much he understood how I must feel and how hard it must be while McGonagall supported everything with firm nods and Slughorn looked like he would rather be anywhere but there."

"Severus, stop _PLEASE_."

"Told me to confide in my Head of House or Professor McGonagall whenever I felt the need to. As if I ever would. I mean can you imagine talking about something like that to Slughorn? I can't. And McGonagall? That's just ridiculous."

Lily clenched her fists. Her voice was hoarse. "Stop."

Severus calmly turned another page. "They had to put Memory charms on more than twenty of father's colleges at the factory by the way. And almost as much neighbours. I heard the Aurors complain about the workload when they took tea in grandfather's kitchen."

"Stop. It."

"I wonder what they did with his family. Haven't seen them, of course. Not that I have ever seen them much. Once a year a few hours at Christmas that was the most mother would tolerate her Muggle relatives..."

"Stop it, stop _IT_!" Lily's voice rose to a screech as she ripped the book from his lap, flinging it across the room with all her might. It hit the floor with a loud thud and the sound of crumpling pages. Shaking she made to reach out but drew her hand back again, her breathing loud and harsh in the sudden silence. "Oh god, please stop it."

Severus didn't start yelling. He didn't get angry. He didn't do anything. He just kept staring down in his lap, his empty hands, at the place where the book had been. His eyes were distant, far away - black, bottomless holes in a frighteningly empty face. Lily swallowed hard. And as an overwhelming sense of panic threatened to consume her she had never felt more helpless in her life. Then something flickered in his eyes.

"It was my fault."

Breath left her lungs in a painful rush. "No."

His forehead wrinkled slightly. "But it was my fault. I know how they are. They keep bickering and bickering until he hits her and then she hexes him or the other way round... I should have gone down."

"No," Lily repeated and shook her head. "Please, don't do this, Severus."

"I should have gone down." Black eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "They had been at it the whole morning I knew how it would end. I should have stopped them. But I was so annoyed I - I didn't want to. I didn't want to."

And as if she had been there Lily could suddenly see him: A sour looking, greasy-haired teenager lounging on the bed in his dark room, shooting flies off the ceiling and muttering every now and again nastily to himself whenever the shouting from the first floor increased in volume. She closed her eyes.

"Don't, please. Don't do this to yourself."

Severus did not even seem aware of her words. His eyes were staring in the past. "And then I heard her. _Avada Kedavra_. I had never heard her sound like this."

Yes, Lily could see him. Saw him jump violently as the enraged scream from below reached his ears, saw him send his wand clattering to the floor as he scrambled from the bed, ran for the door...

"I knew. I just knew something terrible had happened. I ran downstairs. Into the kitchen."

Slipping, almost falling in the narrow staircase of the two-storey brick house that looked exactly the same as its neighbours left and right; sturdy, efficient, bleak.

"She just ... stood there. Just... Stood. She didn't even seem to see me. She just ... just ... stared down at him."

Oh yes, Lily could see it. Could see him standing in the doorway, gasping for breath, looking back and forth between the frozen woman at the stove who had clapped one hand over her mouth, the other dangling limply wand forgotten in her fingers - and the large hook-nosed man crumpled on the impeccably clean floor. Huge, still so huge, filling the cramped space and yet so strangely small, diminished. Severus's gaze flickered for the second time. His slightly open lips moved soundlessly for a heartbeat and then his voice still held some of the disbelief he had felt that moment.

"He wouldn't move. He simply wouldn't move and I - I panicked. I - I didn't know what to do so I ... I ran to grandfather."

And Lily could see him, pelting down the narrow street, robes hiked up over his knees, for once not caring about possible gossip in the neighbourhood. Running, running as he had never run before through what had once been an airy suburb before the shadow of the mill chimney had fallen over it and the very last house in a street that was now called Spinner's End. Saw him throw himself against the door, pounding, pounding until it suddenly opened and he nearly fell into the arms of an impatient looking old man... She sobbed quietly and reached out, grabbed his hands, cold and limp and slightly greasy but she did not care.

"Severus, no."

"It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't."

"It was _MY_ fault."

"It wasn't." Lily leaned in and touched her forehead to his, noses brushing; she could smell his a bit stale breath as it mingled with hers. She closed her eyes. "It wasn't." A spell, a plea, a prayer. "It wasn't."

The clammy fingers in her hands twitched then suddenly came alive and closed with crushing force around hers. Holding on, holding on like he was drowning and maybe he was but no matter how hard he squeezed she squeezed right back, nails leaving deep marks in equally white skin.

"It wasn't," whispered Lily as a tear slid down her face and fell on their joined hands, and Severus made a strange sound, like a strangled sob, deep in his throat, "No, it wasn't."


	13. Slytherin and Gryffindor

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Time frame: Marauder era, middle of their first year.

* * *

**- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardr****y **

Hogwarts was hilarious, frightening, exciting, frustrating, wonderful, shocking, amazing, maddening and inspiring ... all at the same time. Especially after you were bitten by a plant of all things. Pausing in front of a large moth-eaten tapestry where a couple of club-swinging trolls in ballet gear chase after an odd looking wizard Lily Evans looked down at her by now perfectly healed hand and silently shook her head.

A plant. And darn painful it had been too not to mention the gleeful laughter of her 'friendly' classmates. Well, her face must have been quite a sight, she would give them that. Lifting the hand she sniffed at the skin and smiled involuntarily as she caught the lingering scent of the potion that had been applied to it in the hospital wing. Never in her life had she smelled anything more wonderful and the nurse had said when fresh from the cauldron it would be like standing in a meadow of summer flowers at dawn when dew still glittered on petals and leaves of the slowly opening blossoms and the air was still innocent and sweet. How she longed to make that experience! Heaving a deep, wistful sigh Lily gave herself a shake and continued down the long seventh floor corridor.

Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful to have a place to brew outside lessons? If asked she would have easily listed Potions as her favourite subject so far - although she liked the rest just as well even History of Magic it was all so exciting and new - but homework there was so terribly boring. Always theory and essays and reading this and reading that instead of doing something because it was not regarded as safe. All right, maybe it wasn't considering the impressive eruption and following shower with horrid smelling bile they had witnessed two weeks ago when someone had added the spider webbing before the crushed slugs but still... She wanted so badly to try something on her own.

Abruptly changing her mind Lily turned sharply at a man-sized vase and headed back in the direction she had been coming from. Maybe the book about transfiguring potions she had signed up for had finally been taken back to the library. Besides, with the next game on tomorrow there was no other subject but Quidditch to be talked about in the Gryffindor common room.

Not that she didn't like Quidditch, mind you, it was exciting to watch, but too much was too much just like the endless discussions about the boarding school football team her best Muggle friend described in her letters. The very boarding school Lily herself would attend by now had she not turned out a witch and gotten The Letter at her eleventh birthday. As usual this thought made her a bit sad.

She really missed Claire. Oh, her roommates were nice enough and she had quickly found friends among the other girls too but ... sometimes she really missed talking about, well, Muggle things with someone who understood. The confused glances she got when she tried to explain how to play hopscotch or what music or clothes she liked best... A pity that in the wizarding world anything not being or resulting from magic seemed to be immediately dismissed as unimportant or boring. Worst thing was she could not even answer the letters she received with the same honesty and had to send them through her parents - poor Claire would have a heart attack if an owl should happen to sweep through her window.

With a puzzled second look at the tapestry as she walked past it again - why were the trolls wearing ballet gear? - Lily heaved another deep sigh.

Yes, she really wanted a friend, a real friend like Claire had been, to stick together and have secrets with and do daring things no one else did - but so far she had not found this at Hogwarts. Maybe it would have been different if more Muggle-born students had been sorted Gryffindor. But this year she happened to be the only one and the only half-blood first-year in her house was a mousy little boy named Remus Lupin who had ended up under the wing of the insufferably arrogant pair Potter and Black. Now there was ... PEEVES!

Freezing in her tracks Lily stared for a second at the corner from where the telltale sounds were coming closer and then whirled round and dashed off in the other direction.

Oh, god, Peeves, she needed to get away, she needed a place to hide, somewhere, anywhere... Glancing wildly over her shoulder at an especially loud raspberry Lily suddenly noticed a door in a blank stretch of wall that had somehow escaped her attention before. Without a second thought she performed another spin and raced back to it, wrenched it open as silently as possible and slipped through, closing it with the same desperate care.

Long moments she clung fearfully to the polished brass handle - holding her breath, heart thundering madly and fully expecting to see the poltergeist darting through the wall any second now. But those seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Finally daring to breathe again Lily sagged against the wood, knees weak with relief.

Yes, Hogwarts was hilarious, frightening, exciting, frustrating and wonderful but Peeves was the only thing she truly hated here and she simply didn't understand why he was allowed to stay. You could never turn a corner without fear of having something thrown at you or to step into something ugly or to be otherwise scared and when you ran away his mean, cackling laughter followed you everywhere. Her hair had been green for two entire days after he had dumped something on her on one occasion and his bad jokes had ruined at least two essays she had painstakingly put together for homework.

Shuddering a final time with feeling Lily congratulated herself to her good fortune, straightened and looked up and around. Involuntarily her jaw dropped. She was in the dungeons. Dim light filled a large, sparsely furnished room with heavy cupboards and shelves on all sides much like the Potions classroom. It was so cold her breath formed little clouds. But before she could take in more she caught a whiff of something that drove any other thought straight out of her head.

A meadow of summer flowers at dawn when the blossoms opened and dew still glittered on pedals and leaves with the air innocent and sweet.

Drawn like a magnet Lily followed her nose and shuffled between the tables then nearly screamed when a dark head suddenly popped up behind one of them. Lank, greasy hair, falling like a curtain on slim shoulders. She recognized him instantly.

Still oblivious to her presence since his back was to her the boy from the train stepped up to the table in front of him and carefully filled a glass bottle with a sample from the smoking little cauldron on it. Setting it securely aside he then used a pair of protective gloves to pick up the cauldron and carry it to a place by the wall Lily could not see completely. Flipping his hair back with an impatient gesture he carefully dipped the cauldron over a ... sink!

"NO!" Lily shrieked without thinking.

The boy jumped violently, dropped cauldron and gloves with a clatter and whirled round, whipping out his wand with surprising speed. Then he huffed and let his shoulders sag.

"The Mudblood," he said with disgust.

Lily was way too distracted to notice the insult. Hurrying around the last table she stared with dismay at the last blotch of potion slowly trickling down the drain.

"Why did you do that? It was perfect!" She was nearly crying in frustration. "It smelled just like the nurse said it should. You could have given it to her."

The black-haired boy sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And who, do you think, would use a concoction a first-year made all by himself?"

"Oh." This gave Lily pause but she recovered soon. "Anyway, I'm sure you could have used it somehow. It was so perfect!"

"As if a Mudblood would know." The boy pointed his wand at her with renewed vigour. "How did you get in here?"

"That is the second time you've called me that." Lily frowned, still blissfully ignoring his threatening stance. "What does it mean? Mudblood?"

That earned her an exasperated rolling of eyes. "It is a bad word for Muggle-borns."

"Really?" She thought about that for a second. "You mean like nigger for coloured people?"

The boy heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Yes."

Now Lily was surprised. She had fully expected to have to explain this Muggle expression since - as she had been told with total conviction - no Muggle-born had ever been sorted into his house. Then an easy solution occurred to her.

"Oh, you must have been to a Muggle school before Hogwarts! Are you a half-blood?"

"You - I - this is -" The boy spluttered then gathered his wits and waved his wand. "I am asking the questions! How did you get in here? Answer me!"

"Why, I took the door, of course." Lily looked slightly irritated.

"This is the Room of Requirement. You don't 'just take the door'!"

"Room of Requirement? I didn't know something like that was in the dungeons. What is it used for?"

"You think we are in the dungeons?"

"Well-," Lily vaguely waved her hand around, "that is pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"I can't believe it." The boy dropped his wandarm and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can't believe what?" Lily put her fists to her hip. "Come on, can't believe what, Severus Snape?"

Severus sighed mightily and spoke as if he was addressing a five-year-old. "This is the Room of Requirement. A room on the seventh floor that only opens when you have real need for it and only if you follow a specific procedure and it will always be equipped for your needs. So now can _YOU_ explain to _ME_ how you came to stumble in here without even knowing about the Room while _I_ was already in it?" The last was spat with increasing impatience.

Lily shrugged. "No idea, really. I mean I _WAS_ in dire need for a hiding place to escape Peeves..."

"Peeves?" Severus glanced somewhat nervously at the door.

"Exactly my reaction." Lily nodded grimly. Then she looked round with new interest. "So we are still on the seventh floor? Amazing, I really thought it was a short cut to the dungeons." She took a few steps and peered at the rows of shelves then turned to the table he had been working at and curiously picked up a rather battered looking book. "How did you find -"

"Give it back!" Severus snatched the book out of her hands but not before she had read the title, given as _Advanced Potion Making_. "That is mine!"

"Whoa, no reason to get upset." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry I touched it. Honestly."

He glared at her a moment longer, cradling the book protectively to his chest, then gave a sharp nod. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't, big promise." She looked round for a safe topic and finally pointed at the glass bottle with his sample of the healing potion. "Where did you learn to brew so well? Were you allowed to practice at home?"

Severus shrugged. "Every now and again. Father doesn't like the funny smell."

"Ah," Lily gave him a sympathetic smile. "So I guess your father is the Muggle in your family?"

It was the wrong thing to say, she could almost see him shut like an oyster. He shot her a definitely hostile look.

"This is none of your business, Mudblood."

"Fine, have it your way, Snivellus!"

The surprise on his face was almost comical. "What did you just call me?"

"Well, if you insist on calling me bad names while I'm just trying to be friendly..."

"I don't want you to be friendly!"

"_SO_ glad you told me because I would not have noticed!"

For several moments they stared at each other, panting angrily. Then Severus grumbled something nasty but thankfully unintelligible under his breath and - shoving the book in a pocket - started cleaning up his table. Lily climbed on a chair nearby and watched silently for a time.

"So," she started finally in a carefully neutral voice, "was your mother good at Potions?"

He paused, glanced at her and lifted his shoulders. "Not really." He packed some more things away. "But she doesn't mind supervising me a bit or if I take her old textbooks."

"I wish my mother were a witch and could teach me things."

For a heartbeat their eyes met. Severus looked away first. Lily kicked the chair leg with her heel.

"Did your mother tell you about this room?"

"Not directly. I mean I don't think she was ever in here but she must have heard about it from the house-elves. She once complained to father how small the house was and that in the wizarding world there were things like the Come and Go Room and such. That's the name the house-elves have given the Room of Requirement because he sometimes is there and sometimes not." Severus put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists. "Father had just come home from an extra shift at the mill because he wanted to have the car fixed with the additional money and did not take it very kindly."

It was one of the few occasions that Lily Evans did not know what to answer.

"Teach me potions," she said finally.

"What?" Severus spun around.

"Teach me potions. That's what you need the room for anyway, isn't it? A place for brewing. Teach me."

"I will most certainly not!"

"Why? You are good at it."

"But I won't teach you! It's bad enough you found entrance to this room once! I won't make a habit of it!"

"Why? Slughorn says I have talent for brewing."

"Yeah, I heard he picked you for his slug club." Severus sneered.

"Hey, I didn't ask him to. And why are you not in it by the way?"

She got no answer to that one. What she counted as success. Hopping off the chair she crossed her arms.

"So, will you teach me potions?"

"No."

"And why? Just think of all the fun we could have at it."

"You are a -"

"If you now say Mudblood or Muggle-born I'll hex you."

"- a girl."

"And you are a boy, so what? I don't hold it against you."

Severus visibly had a hard time swallowing this. Finally he made an angry gesture.

"It is impossible because you have been sorted Gryffindor and I Slytherin."

"Because I am Gryffindor and you Slytherin?" Lily repeated slowly, frowning.

"Yes!" Severus smirked, satisfied he had finally shut her up but then noted with growing irritation the return of a smile on her face.

"Oh, then everything is perfectly all right," Lily announced happily. "As you can read in _Hogwarts: A History_ there have been no such friends as Slytherin and Gryffindor until they broke up over some small, unimportant detail and _WE_ will never be so stupid and repeat their mistake, now will we?"

Severus opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water until he realized what he was doing and snapped it shut. He regarded her with more than a little confusion.

"You are weird," he declared finally.

Lily's eyes twinkled mischievously as she reached into her robes. "Yes, I think I've been told so on one or two occasions. Chocolate frog?"

Severus looked down at the sweets she held out to him. Again. He looked back up.

"Why me?" It sounded almost desperate.

Lily shrugged. "I like your hair. We don't have Potions at the same time so I have at least a chance to shine in one subject. And you saved me on the train."

"I did not!" Severus protested indignantly.

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too. Without you I would not have known what to do." Lily grinned.

Severus rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. But he took the frog.


	14. Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Matrimonial violence will once more be mentioned, consider yourself warned. And since this is the last chapter I'd like to say thank you for reading, big, big thank you for your reviews and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it.

Time frame: Marauder era, start of their first year.

* * *

**- ****King's Cross railway station, London **

The tall, hook-nosed man who had bumped into her father didn't even bother to return his apology. Instead his already angry face grew only angrier as his gaze fell on the plain, black pointed hat sitting on top of her trunk and he gave her such a dark look that Lily involuntarily turned her head and stared after him as he strode away at a brisk pace. Startled by the inexplicable contempt and pain in those hard eyes. She really did not understand what she had done to him. A gentle hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present and as she looked up quickly she was reassured by her mother's smile.

"Come now, darling, watch where you are pushing that trolley."

Lily nodded obediently, smiled back and leaned forward against her heavy load. Over her and Petunia's heads Mrs Evans's eyes met briefly with those of her husband, and they exchanged a look and an almost imperceptible shrug as if to say _'Oh, well. People._'. And with that the incident was forgotten.

It was a quarter past ten and King's Cross was swarming like a beehive so Mr Evans kept a firm hold on his older daughter as he continued squeezing his way up the line of platforms. Behind them Mrs Evans once more placed a directing hand on the handle of the heavily laden trolley. With good reason because Lily could not resist temptation and was more craning her neck and staring around than paying attention where they were going. She thought she had never seen that many people in one place before. There were Japanese tourists following a guide with raised umbrella, guards in shining uniforms looking very important or slightly stressed, a poor dog navigating his path doggedly in the wake of a family of five, men and women dressed in fine business wear and of course lots and lots of trolleys, laden or empty, standing in the oddest of places and forming a bizarre obstacle course. Her father had to raise his voice to be heard over the constant noise, echoing under the high roof.

"... seven ... eight ... nine and ten. Here we are then."

Finding a relatively quiet spot a bit to the side they gathered together and eyed the ticket box and barrier between platforms nine and ten with very different feelings. Petunia decidedly grumpy, Mr and Mrs Evans slightly anxious and Lily with an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach.

So this was it. The moment she had been waiting for since her eleventh birthday when this strange little man who had introduced himself as Professor Flitwick had appeared in the middle of their living room with a flourish and a bow and presented her a heavy envelope made of yellowish parchment. Her whole world had turned upside down that day, in an exciting and wonderful way, and not only because all of them had jumped up screaming with surprise. No, she - Lily Evans - was a witch and invited to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and there learn all about magic and the magical world. An honour and an unexpected pleasure and reason for ceaseless ramblings every day ... and yet now she found herself strangely torn. Suddenly what had been like an exciting dream seemed almost frighteningly real. More real than during her visit to Diagon Alley with the professor. More real than the moving pictures in her new textbooks. More real than the pointed hat on her trunk or the smooth wood of her wand, carefully packed away in the extra bag with the black school robe she intended to wear later.

"Well." The voice of her father nearly made her jump out of her skin. "I'm not sure if we - er - non-magical people are allowed through so we should probably say goodbye here ... what do you think, love?"

He cast a questioning glance at his wife who agreed with some hesitation. Lily looked back and forth between them and swallowed; the odd flutter in her stomach growing alarmingly. She returned the hugs she received in (for her) unusual silence, nodded mutely to the last minute admonitions she got ("be good - listen to your teachers - do _NOT_ touch anything you do not know"), said obediently goodbye to her sister when asked to do so ("Bye" - "Bye"). And before she knew it she stood facing the very solid-looking barrier with her trolley, and her parents and sister off to both sides watching for the opportune moment. She suddenly wasn't sure at all if this had been such a good idea.

"Now, Lily!"

She started and threw her father a wide-eyed look, feet frozen to the ground. Mr Evans made shooing gestures with his hands, eyes on a pair of approaching teenagers.

"Now! Quickly!"

Lily took a deep breath. Looking forward again she gripped the handle of the trolley harder and pushed, got it moving, sped up, the barrier still looking terribly solid, and then - remembering some advice the strange little professor had given her - closed her eyes, lowered her head and broke into a full run. A few seconds she just kept running ... and running and just as she was beginning to hope... CRASH!

"_OUCH_!"

Lily staggered backwards at the sudden impact and unexpected yelp. Her eyes flew open and widened to the size of saucers at the sight of an enraged-looking woman in a long green dress, fox-fur scarf and a tall hat with what seemed to be a stuffed vulture on top shaking a big red handbag at her.

"Can you not look where you are pushing that trolley, girl? Really, children have no sort of manners these days! Running around and assailing unsuspecting people..."

The rest of her tirade was lost on Lily for she had turned her load, scrambled to pick up her hat and bag from the ground and beat a hasty retreat to the right, stumbling like dazed through a dazzling mass of robes in blue and emerald and every other colour one could only think of. People were screaming and yelling, toads were croaking, cats mewing, owls screeching, tiny and not so tiny children were running everywhere followed by angry parents. Trunks and bags were piled in disorderly heaps, and above all that a huge scarlet steam engine was belching up dark clouds of smoke. She started trembling. It was just and simply too much.

Lily Evans was normally a rather cheeky child - too cheeky for her own good, as some would say - but for once she was completely out of her depth.

Anything Professor Flitwick had told her had vanished straight from her head. Shrinking lower and lower behind her trolley she shuffled on along the edge of the crowd in a state of shock, jumping and looking around wildly every time voices rose close by. Faces turned grimaces, the screaming colours were drowning her, the unfamiliar noises pierced her ears. Panic-stricken shying away from any towering figure turning her direction she hastened on without aim or purpose, blinking against tears forming faster and faster in her eyes.

She wanted her mother. She wanted no longer to be a witch. She wanted to go to that boarding school together with her best friend Claire, at least there they would be delivered in the safety of a group of other new students and shown through the buildings and treated to special songs and speeches and... That was the moment her gaze went through a gap in the milling people and fell on a small, dark-clad boy about her age, standing with his trolley at the back of the platform. She stopped dead and stared at him, her previous despair forgotten.

He was pale, even sickly so, with a nose to be pitied for and greasy black hair falling down on his shoulders just like the lead singer of her favourite rock band. The one whose picture her mother had taken one look at and immediately ordered her to get off the wall. She instantly liked him.

Carefully making her way through the crowd parting them Lily sidled up to the boy as close as she dared and positioned herself a bit to his left. From there she watched him curiously. If this was an appointed meeting place for first-years they seemed to be early for he stood all alone with no adult close enough to belong to him, tugging somewhat impatiently at the point of the obligatory hat he held in his hand. Noting that he was already wearing his black school robes she hastily pulled her own out and slipped them on, fighting a bit with the unfamiliar garment. But after she had smoothed it out she immediately felt better, less out of place than in her - what was the word? ah, yes - 'Muggle' clothes. Inching a bit closer still she rested her elbows on the trolley and prepared to wait with new confidence.

**

* * *

**

**- ****Platform Nine and Three-quarters **

Severus pressed his thin lips tighter together and glowered angrily at the crowd milling by.

It wasn't fair. This should have been _HIS_ big day. The day he went to Hogwarts to become a real wizard. Instead his parents had had to start one of their fights yesterday evening and the end of it was that his mother had refused to go out with a black eye - even if he had seen her conceal worse and easily when she wanted to meet friends for tea. And then she had insisted it was necessary he put on his school robes right away although she knew his father would hate taking him like that. The whole journey to London they had received funny looks, making father's expression so angry from embarrassment that he had hardly dared to glance at him let alone say anything to break the grim silence.

Giving his hat an especially vicious tug Severus abruptly felt guilty for blaming his mother for his disappointment. She was his _MOTHER_. The only one who took care he knew how to behave as a proper wizard and not be laughed at in the wizarding world since his grandfather refused to acknowledge more than the barest existence of his half-blood grandson. His father just didn't understand; how could he, he was only a Muggle. If he was a wizard too everything would be easier. Then there would be no reason for him to hit her. He would know the counter-jinxes when his mother raised her wand and he would never - it was just so embarrassing when ... to see... As usual Severus's mind shied back from this confusing train of thought.

Severus was a child. He did not know that he was but a pawn in an undeclared war between two people who had allowed circumstances and gossip to taint what they had once thought bright and wonderful. He did not know how thin the line was between love and hate; did not understand that you could despise what you want or need what you look down on. He was eleven years old and knew more curses than most would when they reached majority, and not one of them he had looked up in a book.

Abruptly realizing he was being watched Severus looked round and glared at a small, red-headed girl who had taken position to his left. Unfortunately she seemed more curious than impressed and for some unknown reason this fuelled his aimless anger.

Jamming the hat resolutely on his head Severus threw his weight against the trolley handle and pushed through the crowd, speeding up when he noticed the girl doing the same. She walked faster too and so he increased his pace some more, looking back over his shoulder only to see her following determinedly. Dodging around people they reached the train nearly at a run, Severus by now with a hurting neck from turning so often, she slightly breathless with effort. And both oblivious to the amused glances shared behind their backs. To get his heavy trunk off the trolley and up through the first available door almost proved too much for Severus's scrawny body but he managed by sheer stubbornness just as two fathers jumped forward to give a hand. So they helped the girl instead. Severus only rolled his eyes.

He nearly gave up after one look into the narrow corridor, packed with students, but since the girl was still behind him and there was no real choice anyway he lowered his head and started making his way down the length of the train as good as possible. What was not very good. He was buffeted and jostled from all sides and once nearly lost his front teeth to the unintentional elbow of a tall sixth-year who turned at the wrong moment, yelling at him as if it was his fault. His trunk seemed to catch constantly on small edges of the walls or shins or heels, drawing pained curses down on him. Soon he was sweating and sniffling for his nose had started running embarrassingly but he did not dare stop and search for a handkerchief. On top of that the girl was still following him persistently and had it considerably easier in his wake; much to his annoyance. Yet his pride would not allow him to ask for help. Stubbornly ignoring his burning hands and shoulders he trudged on until he finally found a nearly empty compartment somewhere in the middle of the train. Nodding breathlessly to the two boys of maybe twelve or thirteen who had taken possession of the seats on the left side, he quickly wiped an offending drop off his nose before starting the trying task to get his trunk around the corner.

"Hey, you." The voice made him pause halfway through the door and look up. "You can't sit here. This compartment is full."

Severus glanced uncertainly at the luggage racks - the right one definitely empty - before looking back at the two older boys. They held a struggling toad between them and were regarding him coolly. He hesitated. Part of him wanted to turn heel and leave, however, the unpleasant prospect of a new trip through the stuffed corridor won out, and he opened his mouth in protest. The bigger boy of the two beat him to it.

"It's full for a Snivellus like you."

A hot wave of shame and anger washed over Severus as he stood rooted to the spot, answering their challenging stares mutely. And absolutely unable to decide what to do. With the years he had slowly got used to being considered unnatural because of his clothes and hair and mother in his previous school and neighbourhood - that was only the opinion of Muggles after all and didn't count as she had assured him every time he came home in tears, swearing he would never ever go back out. But he was entirely unprepared to meet the same derisive treatment here; in what she had always told him to be the world he really belonged to. The next moment any decision was taken out of his hands.

"What is going on here? You, first-year, you can't block the corridor like that! Get on in."

Startled Severus turned to the authoritative voice and had to lay back his head to look up at the impressive, much older boy with a shiny silver badge with a P on his chest.

"He can not sit here," the bigger boy from the compartment said again quickly, "We are waiting for some friends."

He was obviously making that up as he spoke and the older student seemed to think so too for he narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"A third-year should know by now to come in time," he told the two other boys brusquely before giving Severus a commanding shove and drawing his wand. "Go on in and sit. Here, I'll take care of that..."

Somewhat terrified Severus watched his trunk soar up into the luggage rack, having no idea how he should get it back down later. Then he ducked quickly and hurried to the empty window seat because the girl's trunk and bag zoomed past and settled on top of his. The boy with the badge beckoned her impatiently to step in too and then walked off, not without a last stern look at the two unhappy third-years.

"Behave!"

As the girl climbed on the seat beside Severus the bigger boy muttered something nasty about arrogant Ravenclaw prefects but thankfully the steam engine in front chose this moment to whistle piercingly. The boys jumped up, forced the toad in one of their pockets and joint the throng in the corridor. The cheerful noise of farewell rose to a new level and not long afterwards the Hogwarts Express started pulling out of the station with one last long whistle. Rumbling and shaking and puffing up huge clouds of smoke he gained speed while students scrambled back into their chosen compartments and settled in only to hop up not much later and start wandering about.

Severus had pulled out his beloved copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ and amused himself with looking up any potion which used parts of toad as ingredients. He studiously ignored the two third-years whispering between themselves as well as the red-headed girl fiddling with her hat and the landscape flying by outside.

The new peace didn't last long, or so it seemed, before a new commotion in the corridor drew the boys back on their feet. Together with half of the train if the dull vibration going through the floor was any indication. The girl followed them curiously after a short sideways glance in Severus's direction, asking in a timid voice what was happening now. The boys, who seemed to have found back to a more amiable mood, explained about the arriving food trolley and then on about the different types of sweets when they discovered that the girl was Muggle-born, helping her to pick some and pay in the right way.

"Those Chocolate frogs will _BE_ chocolate, won't they?" The girl sounded a bit wary after she had sat down again and made first experiences with Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.

"Oh yes, don't worry." The smaller boy laughed. "But they have cards in them, see? To collect. My father has a complete set of Most Famous Quidditch-Players but at the moment they are doing Magical Beasts And Monsters. Go on, open one..." The girl shrieked. "Hey, you are lucky; an Acromantula on the first try I keep getting only unicorns for ages now."

Severus bent deeper over his book and tried to block out the chattering voices. The small purse _'...with real money to buy something off the trolley...'_ his mother had handed him just this morning was still tickling seductively in his pocket but he would rather have swallowed his tongue than stand beside those boys and sift through the food. For a second he though of the paper bag with his favourite cream toffees from the little shop at the corner of their street his father had slipped wordlessly into his hand before he had practically pushed him through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. But of course it was simply impossible to eat Muggle sweets here; he would never live that down. So he swallowed the saliva watering his mouth and stubbornly pretended to read as the two boys - they turned out Hufflepuffs - explained this and that about Hogwarts to the girl hanging on their lips ... but after some time he too was listening closely.

This lesson about the wizarding world ended abruptly when the compartment door banged open once more and a noisy group of other third-years greeted the two boys enthusiastically. One could have thought they had all suddenly gone deaf with the ruckus they made and while most of the giggling and laughter took place out in the corridor, some words floated back in with perfect clarity.

"...see the boy in the corner? Did you see his nose? Did you see his hair? Boy, I pity anybody after him in the alphabet the Sorting Hat will be _dripping_ with grease..."

Severus's whole body stiffened painfully as something cold and ugly balled up in the pit of his stomach and grew, taking his breath away. He could no longer see the pages in front of him. He could no longer think of anything but the wand in his pocket and his frustrating lack of knowledge of how to wield it even if he knew the words. But one day. One day he would. The soft clearing of a throat right beside him made him snap round defensively.

A long moment he stared down at the small palm offering him a Chocolate frog and then up into startling green, almond-shaped eyes. The girl smiled shyly.

Refusing with his most haughty look Severus turned his back on her and stared grimly into his book, trying with all his might to stamp out this tiny spark that suddenly warmed him deep inside. Yet somehow he failed miserably.

It would still take long years for him to learn that some things were indeed unbreakable ... if only by choice.

And in the end he would have chosen many times.

* * *

The end ... or rather the beginning.


End file.
